The Horsemen's Cycle
by TheHarleyQueen
Summary: The Isle of the Lost was a wretched place, and the children who were born there were even more so {as children, they lived in the shadows. As adults, they stepped into the light, and it was glorious}.
1. Wrath: Chapter 1

_This is a compilation of all eight works that make up the Seven Deadly Sins series. The ingenious title was mentioned to me by _PBWritesStuff.

* * *

**Wrath: Once Upon A Time**

* * *

_Once Upon a Time (She Was Called Malicious)_

Mal didn't know it, but while her mother had _cursed entire kingdoms_, she'd never killed a single soul. Her mother had once been malicious and spiteful and cruel and _bad_, but she had never killed. So Mal was already more evil in that regard. While Maleficent had enjoyed being evil, Mal had _embraced_ it. Mal was deceitful and dishonest and all-around _despicable_ like her mother could never be. Because Maleficent couldn't kill. Not wouldn't, not refused to, she was physically incapable of casting the spell, of bringing the knife down, of snapping the bone. Maleficent, the worst and most evil of them all, was _scared_ of killing. So her daughter lived on, not as her legacy, but as her _Queen_. Not as her daughter, but as her _Master_. And it just _killed_ her. _She_ should be the one who was lounging in a throne, who was ordering executions, who was conquering the heroes.

But no.

She was in captivity, in prison, while her daughter spent her life under a golden crown on a velvet throne, ordering those she had deceived (so long ago) to do as she saw fit. Her spawn, her flesh and blood (_that she had only conceived as a contingency plan in the first place_) had _flowered _in her position of High Queen of the ex-United States of Auradon, now called _Chess_, a land that was as cruel as its rulers, and far more so than their predecessors, named for the games played by its rulers. So Maleficent plotted, and pushed, and tried to convince her cellmates that their children had to be taken down, that their unchallenged reign should come to an end.

But it remained unchallenged as long as Maleficent would live, and a good while longer because the girl she had once named Mal because she was only worthy of not even half of her mother's name had stopped being second-best. And her daughter's lovers would come in to taunt her, to make her understand that she had lost, and not to the generic "good trumps evil" character, but to her own daughter, and _God_, it stang. It was cruel and unholy that her plan to _rule _had resulted in only a slave's life and her daughter's success- because her daughter was never supposed to succeed.

* * *

And so when Maleficent died, it was not spectacular. It was hardly average. The faerie so many had feared for so many years before they knew what her daughter could do died in her sleep, a sigil carved into her forehead, the symbol of the Crown above that. When Maleficent died, when she was killed by her daughter, there was no fanfare. In fact, it was never announced, never even noted. When Maleficent died, only eight people even remembered her, because what she feared most in the world was oblivion, and her daughter knew that. And she watched from Hell, as she was strung over the rack, as she was pulled apart, physically and spiritually, how her daughter killed and pillaged and took without remorse. She watched her daughter who was supposed to be less become more. She watched as High Queen Mal came into her fae power- power that had been denied to her by the barrier on the wretched Isle of the Lost.

Maleficent watched from her position on a throne of iron, wrapped in thorns, as her _whore _daughter married her pathetic lovers, the succubus and the genie and the _human_, watched as her daughter layered her fae blood with the blood of a demon and a djinn, watched her grandson be even more powerful than her daughter, watched her daughter become _weak _with love and lust, and she screamed in anger.

Her screams only brought down the HellQueen, and then she truly regretted her slights against her daughter, because the HellQueen used her body to demonstrate torture, and no one came to her aid. Lord, no one even made eye contact with her, because they knew that if you allied with Maleficent, you double-crossed both the High Queen and the HellQueen.

No one was that stupid.

* * *

When High Queen Mal took her annual trip down to Hell, she saw her mother, strapped to a torture rack made of iron, slowly bleeding through her skin, and she laughed so loudly she woke demons from their slumber and the split the ground between the feet of the Descendants above her, in the Land of the Living. Her laugh made the buildings on the Isle of the Lost, the buildings she and Evie and Carlos and Jay had been _tortured _in, crumble to dust. A smile split across her face and she kissed the one responsible and spat at her mother's frail form.

Because Maleficent was never intended to be Magnificent.

(And her daughter wanted to make sure that she knew that).


	2. Wrath: Chapter 2

_Once Upon a Time (She Was the Fairest of Them All)_

Snow White was _never_ the fairest. That was all there was to it. The mirror was _wrong_, and while that pained Queen Grimhilde, because she had _made_ that thing and it was supposed to be _perfect_, there was no other explanation. Snow White didn't have her blood, her powers, so how could _she_ be beautiful? The dreadful creature was completely _human_, on top of everything else. Grimhilde was a succubus, she was _power _and _desire_ and _lust_ and _want_, and she brought men to their knees with a glance, but _Snow White_ was more beautiful than her. Snow White, who hadn't spoken to a man until she moved in with seven _dwarves_, seven _half-breeds._

So the mirror was _wrong_, and Queen Grimhilde would never be swayed from her stance. And the Queen obviously had to right the wrong that was such a _prominent_ issue. Her _darling_ Evie had known how to apply blush before she could talk, how to sew before she could speak, and how to _control_ men before she understood why she needed to.

But it was never enough.

Evie could _bake_ and _sing_ and _apply makeup_ and _act_ and _clean_ and _sew_ and _terrorise_ people, but she would _never_ beat Snow White. She was too _fat_, too _ugly_, too _false_ and too _innocent_. So Queen Grimhilde would lock her in her room for a week until she'd sewn herself a new wardrobe, or made her bake until her fingers bled into the pies and cakes but refused to let her _eat_ because she was too fat, and _how did she plan on catching a prince looking like that_? And she was far, _far_ too smart. Whenever she should have been perfecting her lipstick, or improving her voice, or playing the piano, she was reading those _awful_ books {_arts and science and mechanics and history and astronomy, and her daughter just thought she was __**so clever, didn't she, the little whore**_}, thinking that she was _so_ clever, not caring that the Charmings or the Beasts or even the _Whites_ (really, she wasn't picky, it just had to be a _prince_) would never care for a smart girl. So Queen Grimhilde took the necessary precautions. She made her precious Evie burn Every. Single. One. And for every tear, every scar, every whimper, she added a day to the time she would wait to be fed.

But she was still too _innocent_. And then, Queen Grimhilde realised it. no matter how perfect she looked, her daughter would never be able to _pleasure_ a man without practice. So she made a deal with Cruella de Vil, and her vile little son would come over, and Evie would lose that blasted innocence {_It's not ladylike to curse, darling, shut up}_. And her plan _worked_. Her darling little seductress-in-training could seduce a man with a blink by the time those lessons were over. (There were some things even _she_ wouldn't teach her child hands-on). And Queen Grimhilde knew for a fact that Evie and Jay were having meetings, and she wondered what Maleficent's spawn thought of _that_.

* * *

When her darling _finally_ conquered Auradon, _five years_ after it was due, Queen Grimhilde expected to be let out of her fucking prison with a full pardon, and her kingdom back. She expected the life she'd missed. She expected Snow White's head on a fucking platter. Instead, she was locked in a _cell_ with the same four who had been driving her madder than the Hatter. And informed of her _nickname_ among the goody-two-shoes, the Evil Queen. And told that, as she was only acting as Queen Regent in Snow's place, her title as _queen_ was never legitimate. But her daughter's was.

Because Evie had taken the crown by _force_, regardless of its brutality. So she was just Grimhilde, and her daughter was Queen Evie the _Angelic_. And it wasn't fair. Queen Evie had an endless range of courtiers, of rich, handsome men begging for her hand in marriage. But Queen Evie turned them all down. For those ridiculous Isle-raised lovers of hers, freaks one and the same. She fucking deserved them.

When Grimhilde died, it was broadcasted _live_ to the Isle, and the ex-United States of Auradon, and _everywhere_ everyone watched as their _Angelic_ Queen carved out her own mother's heart, and _ate_ it whole. Like her mother had planned to do with Snow White's. And the last thing Grimhilde saw before she died was the daughter she had raised to be _second_ best smirking down at her, an _angel_ of death, blood staining her fingers and mouth like lipstick, and then turning away from the regent she left to die.

* * *

In her last moment, the Evil Queen decided that maybe, once upon a time, the mirror had been right. But not anymore.

(Because there was a new fairest, and her name was _Queen Evie_.)


	3. Wrath: Chapter 3

_Once Upon a Time (He Was Seen as Cunning)_

Jay was six. Seven? Maybe five. And he was _costly_. Jafar couldn't afford to keep him anymore. So he rented him out, an item from his shop they could _never _steal because it would always come back. Until one day, when _it _didn't. He could remember that day so well. A purple-haired girl (_Maleficent's _spawn) had come to rent his _finest _stock. She had the money and all, so her _mother _must have commissioned her. but then, he saw his son run off with the girl, as if he _knew _her, and they ran off to _Hell Hall, _the home of that _blasted _Cruella de Vil, and his finest _merchandise _wasn't seen until a week later, when the Queen of the Isle _threw _him out of a window in her _palace_. Jay didn't eat for a _month _for his defiance, but he did bring home one of Cruella's coats, and from then on, when Jafar lent his son out, Jay had to come home with more than he started with, or he wasn't allowed inside. And when he was sent to a _different _school, in Auradon, Jafar went bankrupt. And when he betrayed his _cause, _no one would _look _at Jafar's stock, because for all it was worth, _his _son had been their _one _route off the Isle, and he had _failed_.

Except he hadn't.

Jay was better. He was _stronger_. Faster. _Crueller. _More hardened. More _powerful _than his father _ever _was. And Jafar _hated _it. His son, the only son he'd bothered to raise (there were a fair few others out there, and probably several daughters too, but they weren't _Jay_), whom he'd raised to be what he hated most, _a street rat_, so that he wouldn't think much of himself, had risen far beyond his anticipation. And then his plan had _backfired_. And his son, his _flesh and blood_ had locked him in a cell to _rot_ with three impeccables. Three _women. _And when Jafar had begged? Put aside his pride, got down on one knee and _begged?_ His son- _Jay- _High King Jay the Avenger had laughed at him, called him _weak _and _useless _and _petty_. Said that anyone who was on the Isle in the first place did not _deserve _a second chance, because they were not _strong _enough. But his underlying meaning rang in Jafar's ears. _Not __**cunning**_ _enough. _

But Jafar was _always _cunning. And so he made a plan with Maleficent. When she died, he attempted to escape, to slip away unnoticed. He was caught, and the four sovereigns, his _Kings _and _Queens_, laughed. They shook and _cried _with laughter. And ignored him. _Him. _The once-_Most Trusted Advisor_ to the Sultan of Agrabah. Then they carted off Grimhilde and _broadcasted _her murder on live television, and he knew, he _knew_ he was next. Because, no matter what he said, Cruella's son was always scared of her, even all these years later.

Officially, he wasn't the last one to die. But he wasn't the last one to leave either. One day, a servant (slave) of that _infernal _son of his came to fetch him, and cuffed him, and _dragged _him to the throne room, where King Jay _lounged _on his throne, with his feet on Cruella's son's lap, and his head in Grimhilde's daughter's lap, the little _bitch _stroking his hair, and Maleficent's spawn stretched out on her throne. And they cast him out to _die _in the deserts in Agrabah.

But before he died, Jafar went _mad_. His genie powers came in to play, but there was no _lamp, _so he was left to _lament _his old life and regret his bad choices with his son(_s_). And when he stumbled across a _perfectly _clean and _loaded _pistol in the middle-of-nowhere, he didn't think it _strange, _that it was maybe a _plot. _He just died. Because he was _mad._

* * *

(Because Jafar was never _cunning, _only _insane, _and Jay _proved _it.)


	4. Wrath: Chapter 4

_Once Upon a Time (She Had All the Riches in the World)_

Angelique Mors. Her name wasn't always Cruella de Vil, and when she was a little girl (before she discovered her love of fashion and furs) they called her Angelique Mors. Then she became a business star, a prodigy in her own right. And when the tabloids named her _Cruella de Vil_ in mocking honour of her disregard for the lives of the animals she used as her fur supply, it just stuck. And so, maybe it wasn't perfect, but she became Cruella de Vil.

And then she hired _darling _Anita, with her brilliant ideas and _impeccable _fashion sense, and she decided that she wanted a daughter _just _like her. And Anita designed what would've been the greatest coat she'd have ever owned, and Anita was a star employee, because of _spots_. But Anita married Roger, and their dogs had infernal _puppies_, which she so desperately needed, but they couldn't seem to see that, so she took her own measures.

And she failed.

And then they locked her up on this infernal island, and she hated them, she hated Belle, and what _wouldn't _she give to skin that beast and his son alive. And then she managed to get herself knocked up, and Maleficent refused to do away with the foetus because Maleficent believed that life started at conception, and Maleficent couldn't bring herself to kill like any other supervillain. And how _pathetic _was that?

Carlos was a brat from the moment he was born. Too _scared _and _weak _and no sense of fashion, which was really all she ever asked for, so he slept in the cupboard because he was expendable, but her furs, her _darling _furs that she managed to salvage had to be kept safe.

When she saw that Jafar was lending out his spawn, she realised that she could actually find a use for the pathetic child with no fashion sense, so he started working. And he worked hard. He cleaned and cooked and when she discovered that he was pretty handy with a knife she sent him out to do the killing for her, and he did so well, so she would send him with the furs to the Evil Queen's daughter, and she could sew like no other. And so what if the killing had a negative effect on her son? She _needed _those furs.

When her son- King Carlos the Deceitful- summoned her to his throne, she knew it was over, because Jafar had been the last one to leave, and she hadn't seen him since. And in front of his throne, there was an operating table filled with all sorts of tiny tools Angelique didn't know existed. And she was told to strip and to lie down, and then the pain started. Her son, her baby, the one who had garnered the furs for her best coats on the Isle, was using those skills she had taught him once upon a time, and making due on those threats, and skinning her alive. Angelique died young and weak and poor, the exact opposite of what everyone expected.

And if her son wore a human skin coat after she died, the one skin she never managed to collect, who cared? He was a king, and she was _nothing_.

* * *

(And Angelique was poor and her son had everything she wanted.)


	5. Wrath: Chapter 5

_Once Upon a Time (She Was Only Insane)_

Her name was _Alice_. Ironic, really. _So_ ironic. And her mother was a _murderess_. She was a _queen_. They had lived in the Underland most of her life, a _nightmarish_, undefined world of _horror_, an anti-_Wonderland_. Ruled by the _Queen of Hearts_, her _mother, _locked up with everyone who was _mad_, who Alice (_the_ Alice) had once-upon-a-time _accepted_. And her father was _the Mad Hatter_, who was supposed to be _good_ and in _Wonderland_, but wasn't, because the Council of _Auradon_ didn't trust him, and how _ironic _was that? Alice's life was _built _on irony.

And her _mama's _will.

Alice had been _trained _to kill before she could _talk_ because it was all good (_evil_) and well that her mama _shouted _out the order (and you _know _which one), but _someone _had to follow up on the threat. And that _someone_ was Ali. Eventually, she would take _extra, side orders_ to keep the household afloat, because her papa didn't give her mama money or care for either of them at all (they were, after all, _villains_, and he _wasn't_) and her mama _gambled_ away whatever she earned selling _white _roses. They were _never_ red. And her mama played _poker_ and _Russian roulette _with the Blue Caterpillar and White Rabbit and Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum while Ali killed their brothers' and sisters' and wives' enemies.

And when the _Queen_, the true queen, the one who _could _and _would_ kill discovered her secret stash, she _screamed_ and _raged_ and was _furious _with her and Ali was scared she'd say those four little words- _OFF WITH HER HEAD _-and Ali would _have _to obey because she was _conditioned_ to and she knew that if she didn't there would be _insurmountable_ pain, and not again, she _couldn't_ stand that again, she'd _die. _

But then The Queen of Hearts realised that her _daughter_ (_servant_, _slave_) could be used for _so much more_, and then she'd make _sure_ that Ali didn't come home before midnight, and not without _$2600 _and if she did there'd be _hell_ to pay. And the Queen of Hearts would gamble, gamble away her daughter's (_foul creature_) earnings, and spent it all on booze (vodka and whiskey by the bottle to make her heart _burn_), because that was the _only_ way to forget that her _beautiful_ daughter was not only more _powerful_ than her, but also her second-worst enemy's daughter _as well_, and _named _for her worst enemy. _Alice_. Cruella may have once loved her now-enemy, may _still_ love her, but the Queen never forgave, and _never, never_ forgot, and Alice was at the top of her revenge list as soon as she got rid of the _menace_ that had knocked her up, and she had _just_ that candidate for the job _right_ at her fingertips.

And when _Alice_ killed her father, the Queen _laughed, _and _laughed and laughed and laughed_, because how _perfect_ and _ironic _was it that the Mad Hatter's _only_ link to Alice (_the_ Alice) and Wonderland the Queen's _darling _sister was the _one_ thing that _finally_ did away with him. And she made her daughter bake his _heart_ into a tart and for _so many years_ after she'd been pushed off her throne and her _precious_ Jabberwocky was _murdered_ heartlessly she felt whole again, and she was just so, _so,_ ready to wreak havoc on the Princes of Auradon and that beautifully blonde-haired _Alice_.

Then those four _useless _beasts got so close, _so close_, to _finally_ liberating her, and their _hearts _were turned by the honest, _kind_, honeyed words of the citizens of Auradon, forgetting that they were only a _charity _case and that one day those _upstanding _citizens would _tire _of them and toss them back here like the _trash _they were, and there'd be _no_ mercy.

But apparently, the 'Core Four' tired of them first, when Mal _murdered_ her shiny new _golden _husband on their wedding night and the _entire _world saw her walking out of their suite with a blood-splattered sheet wrapped around her otherwise naked body, a feral smile on her face and their _darling_ prince's head in her hand and the Queen of Hearts was just so _proud_ and why couldn't _her_ daughter be like that, and the Queen was just _so_ sure that she'd be allowed to reign Wonderland again, disregarding the fact that all the other once-villains were being _imprisoned_ until she got drunk and woke up in a _pure white _room and _how dare they _and _white_!?

Apparently, _Alice _(not _the_ Alice) had made a deal with _those_ four, and all she wanted was Wonderland and the chance to _say_ those _four little words_ and the Queen (who really hadn't been a queen for a _long, long _time) didn't know whether to be proud or horrified when her daughter sat in _her_ old throne and it was _her_ head in the place that so many others in her reign had known _oh so well _and yelled the Queen's _favourite_ phrase at the top of her lungs and that was _it_ and the Queen was _dead_ and her victims were avenged.

(Because her mama may have _ordered _killings, but Alice could _kill_.)


	6. Wrath: Chapter 6

_Once Upon a Time (He Sailed the Seven Seas)_

His daughter couldn't _swim_. All he asked for, and she couldn't swim. She lived on a _Godforsaken_ island, and she couldn't swim. She couldn't _sail_. But she could plunder. And she could plunder _well_. She could steal, not in secret, like that _infernal_ Jay, but she could march into a shop and take _whatever_ she wanted because all the shop owners were too _scared_ of her, of a _girl_ a third of their age. They didn't know that at _home_ (and how he _hated_ to have one, _allocated_, run-down _home_) all she did was scrub the floors and the windows and cook the food because that was _all_ she was good for. And she was a _girl_. _Girls_ could never be pirates.

The villains could only perform _true_ magick (not the trick Maleficent did with her eyes) once a year, on Samhain. And on that day, he would change her into a _poor_, _lost_ child, and hope Peter Pan would come to take her (and, by extension, him) away to his _new_ Neverland (they _were_ living in the old one, however strange it may seem). And he never did. _Apparently_, hurt, abused children on the Isle were not _lost_ children, lost children (_boys_, why wasn't she just **boy**?) were bored children with two functioning, _good_, parents. So Helena would _never_ make it to the New Neverland.

And neither would he.

That didn't stop _Captain_ Hook from _trying. _Just like the lack of healthy, sanitary water on the Isle didn't stop him from trying to teach Helena to swim, even when her skin cracked open and she _bled_ on her mattress (because she was never _good_ enough for sheets, or anything other than _Auradon's_ leftovers, because that was what they were, _leftovers_). And if Helena screamed when he pushed her into whatever shallow (or extremely deep) patches of water he could find, _well_, it was for the "Greater Good".

At least _he_ never questioned her strange _alliance_ (not friendship, never _friendship_) with Grimhilde's girl- _Evie_\- who was surprisingly good-looking for her age (she _was_ quite a few years older than Helena). He didn't ask where they went whenever Helena was done with her chores, never asked where they '_found' _the material _Evie_ used to make those new dresses Helena wore. But he _did_ question it whenever Helena came home with that _ditzy_ smile on her face and her skirt skewed and ruffled like she was some kind of _slut_. He _did_ question her when he saw _lipstick_ prints on her _collarbone_, and when she came home in a girl's shirt that _definitely _wasn't hers, because _HOW COULD SHE!? _All he asked for was a _boy_, and if she couldn't achieve that, she would _damn_ well be a proper girl.

So he made her attend lessons with Grimhilde and made sure she went out with _boys_, like that _charming_ Gaston Jr. or Dimitri Tremaine, and signed her up for Anastasia's School of Dance. He forced her to do this, and still cast spells on her on Samhain, not realising that she had _long_ since grown up in matters of the heart _and_ head, and _that_ was what counted to _Peter Pan_.

_No one _was still a child on the Isle of the _Lost_.

When the _brats _broke the Isle's barrier, he tried to swim away, but the barrier snapped shut. So he was _still _stuck, and he'd come _so_ close. And whenever those children that had been _raised_ here came to distribute _bread _and implement solutions for _clean_ water, he wanted to _rip _their throats out and make them _bleed_, because none of the villains were fucking charity cases, and they _knew_ that.

When Mal killed her husband, Captain Hook _knew _his life was forfeit. His daughter and _Queen Evie _had always had… a _close_ relationship and their new _kings_ and _queens_ would accept _her_ (as much as villains could accept other villains). He wasn't shocked when they came for him. Not at all. He wasn't shocked when they pushed him into the same water that they pumped out of the Isle. He _was_ shocked when he spied his daughter through the bars of his _prison_ cell, arm in arm with a _pretty_ Asian girl in pink. She was in the dungeon for a reason.

To kill him.

And kill him she did.

(Because maybe Helena Hook couldn't swim, but she _could_ kill a prepubescent boy in green tights.)

(And her father.)


	7. Wrath: Chapter 7

_Once Upon a Time (He Brought Honour to the Huns)_

Lei. Thunderous. Her name was Lei, and she was the thunder of the Huns. She roared over the hill, warning everyone of the approaching storm, but never did any damage. Lei. Thunderous. Powerful. Her father was Shan Yu, leader of the Huns, and she _would_ return honour to her tribe, no matter what.

because now, now that _Mulan_ had defeated them, her father was unknown. The leader of the Huns, or '_Mulan's villain'. _People used to tremble at the mention of his name, now they laughed. Shan Yu wasn't _terrifying_, he was _laughable_. So Lei would restore **honour** to their tribe. That was her _job_. That's what she was _born_ for. She was the thunder of the Huns, and she would _roar_.

She was trained, practically from birth. Trained like Mulan was because the _best_ way to beat your enemy was to _become_ your enemy. Lei was born and bred to bring honour to the Huns, at least that was what her father said, but more specifically, she was born and bred to _bring down Mulan_. So she trained. She didn't have _friends_, like those _city_ brats. She didn't even have _alliances_, because someone would stab her in the back eventually. It was her and her father and the _masses_ of Huns and their sons, all of them teaching her how to be **fierce** like only Huns could be. No matter what.

Because she knew the consequences. Once upon a time, she'd had a friend. The only other female to be kept among the Huns. Her _sister_. They were confidants. They _trusted_ each other, would _always _have each other's backs, would _kill_ that Mulan that had thrown them in this _rotten_ Hell and forgotten all about it. That _bitch_. But when Shan Yu saw how _close_ they were, how they were the _best_ of friends, he _killed_ her. He _killed_ his second daughter because Lei was not _focusing_ and that was really _all he asked_. How difficult was it?

At age 12, he put Lei in the fight ring. She won every fight. _Every single one_. Gaston Jr., Dimitri Tremaine and _all_ the children of the Huns were useless against his daughter. She was _ready_. Maleficent's scheme just _had_ to work.

It didn't.

But Queen Mal's did.

And Mulan _tried_, she tried _so hard_ to fight, but Lei was _born_ for this and it was her _one_ purpose in life and she'd be damned to all levels of _Hell_ before she _failed_. And Shan Yu stood over (Auradon's _greatest_ warrior) Mulan's _mutilated_ corpse, and the corpses of her mother and _father_ and husband and son (where was her daughter?) and he _laughed_ himself _hoarse_, because finally, _finally_, here lay China's warrior princess at his feet, where she _belonged_.

At Lei _was_ offered the chance to kill her father, the one who had put her through _so. Much. Pain. _And she said _no_ because the Huns were not honourable, but they were _family_, they were a _team_ (and that King Jay understood, even if he _didn't_ understand why she _forgave_ that monster), and what kind of _leader _would she be if she killed the old and _weak_?

So no, Lei did not kill her parent as so many other Descendants did.

(But she led the Huns into victory.)


	8. Wrath: Chapter 8

_Once Upon a Time (He Delivered Hell in a Handbasket)_

Hades was the god of death. Therefore, they couldn't lock him up without magick. There'd be no death. Everyone would be immortal. And the Olympians were selfish. They kept immortality for themselves. So instead of leaving Hades on the Isle of the Lost, they put him on house arrest, and whenever he had a demigod child, the gods would have them delivered straight to the Isle.

So when he and Persephone had a beautiful, bouncing baby daughter, the gods were lost. She was, essentially, one of them. But she had the potential (according to Apollo) to _ruin_ them.

So when they voted, and the majority wanted to keep her on the Isle, that's where she went. _Forever_. And so what if she had no parents? So what if she was left in a blanket on the Isle with no one to raise her? So what if that blanket was stolen not even an hour later? One little girl's death wasn't even a pinprick on the gods' conscience. If they could kill their own _mothers_ and _fathers_, why couldn't they kill their own children? Or, better yet, why couldn't their children kill them? It was a _miracle _she survived.

Her name was Hayley, she was the daughter of Hades, and she'd reign terror on the Olympians one day. They just didn't know how soon.

Even though she'd never even met her father, she was the sole heir of the Underworld. _Beautiful_. She'd make them pay for making her live on the Isle when she could've been a princess. in the meantime, she settled for being princess of the criminals, the thieves, the liars and murderers and rapists, because she wasn't a _queen_, would never be as long as she remained on the Isle of the Lost, under the Daughter of Maleficent and the Daughter of Grimhilde, the _queens_ of the Isle, the queens who were more than willing to put their subjects to death, the subjects that were _too_ evil for them {_but because a goddess has no conscience, Hayley ruled them with __**pride**_}.

Hayley learned to create potions and poisons and manipulations. She could create a better sleeping potion than Queen Grimhilde {_but, not her daughter_}, had killed more people than Maleficent (everyone had, but no one knew {_other than Mal le Fay_}) and was richer than Angelique Mors (everyone came to death eventually, may as well know who they truly were now). Hayley was almost perfect, and she prepared for the coming of the prophecy. She waited and waited and then she was eighteen and the Queen's moment came and _nothing_

Hayley built an army for when she finally took over. An army of the dead. She killed all the most ruthless unknowns of the Isle's underground so that she could lead the dead to a new era of victory (for her, all for her, they were _dead_). All she needed was a way off this pathetic island with its pathetic inmates. Then High Queen Mal killed her husband.

When she was released, the first thing she did was simple. She tossed dearest daddy and mummy who couldn't have given a damn about her when she was on the Isle into Tartarus. Then she took the throne. So what if she lost her soul? Souls were practically _worthless_ in the Underworld. They were everywhere. Technically, she died when she took the throne. But she gained so much more, including a son {_and a lover_} and a family in the Kings and Queens.

And when she lead her armies of the dead, the ruthless and the cunning and the damned onto Olympus, and she threw Zeus down to the mortal world like he'd done to her so many years ago, and when she carved out Aphrodite's pretty face and took a knife to the wheels of Apollo's chariot of the sun, she smiled. Her job was done. She'd killed them _all_. She would lead the _true_ gods and goddesses into a new era, an era of pain and terror and bloodshed. And when she sat on her throne of bones in her dress of souls and drank blood from her cup, she was finally satisfied.

(Because maybe she couldn't kill the gods, but she could sure as _hell_ make them suffer.)

* * *

_When a Goddess comes of age,_

_Four shall break her magick cage._

_They release a demon into the wild._

_Changing the fate of the hero's child._

_A final Queen of Olympus and Hell._

_Gods and Goddesses to sound the death knell._


	9. Wrath: Chapter 9

_Once Upon a Time (She Drowned Misguided Sailors)_

Ursula was a _siren_. She wasn't one of those ridiculous _mermaids_ who were so _loving_ and _cheerful_ and _beautiful_. She'd always been different. She had _tentacles_, not a _tail_. Her voice didn't make people _happy_, it dragged them to their _death_. She _lured_ sailors into the depths of the ocean, and then she _killed_ them. She used their blood for potions and their voices and memories and _everything else_ for magick. It was what kept her sustained.

Then they called her a _cannibal_. _Cannibal_. She wasn't _human_. She was **better**. She was more _evolved_ and more _powerful_ than some useless _human_. She didn't eat _sirens_. She ate _humans_. Survival of the fittest. _Her _species. The _pretty little mermaids_ just smiled and _laughed_ along with the _humans_, the _lesser species_, and she made sure that _she_ wouldn't be the one being put in a _circus_ tank when they got _bored_ of her.

She ended up in a _tank_ anyway.

There were no sources of water on the Isle.

Uriah wasn't her son. When he was tossed in the tank with her, his name was _Aaron_. She renamed him. When he came, he had red hair and giggled and he had _scaled_ skin. Now his hair was black and ice-tipped and he was _very, very_ good at luring in men- tell them that a _beautiful_ woman was asking for them, sing softly to lure them in, even though his singing voice wasn't _that_ good. Or rather, it wasn't good _at all_. It was _terrible_ when he arrived, all high-pitched and gurgly and _happy._

Now, his voice was soft and _enticing_ and _cruel_ and maybe not perfect, but wondrous in its own right. And that was all _her_. No one else. _She_ had forced the potions and poisons down his throat to make his voice beautiful. He would deliver her men to _show_ how grateful he was.

Too bad he wasn't.

The poisons had damaged his lungs- when he wasn't singing, his breath was raspy and harsh. The potions broke down his brain, he couldn't feel _anything_. No emotions. No pain. No heat. Nothing. The eternal singing lessons had kept him from school- he had no friends, no allies, _nothing__**.**_

The Kings and Queens took pity on him. But not on her. She was made into a court _jester_. Singing for a bunch of _brats_ whenever they told her. Left to _starve_ on human food. And her son, maybe one she didn't give birth to, but her son nonetheless, _laughed_. Told her she was pathetic, even when _he _was the one hooked up to oxygen tanks because _he couldn't breathe_, let alone **sing** anymore.

He killed her when she told him he was now _worthless. _

He hadn't planned to.

And that made it _better_.

He broke the tank.

He died too.

(But Hayley _honoured _him, and left her to rot, because she was nothing anymore, not _scary,_ not beautiful.)


	10. Wrath: Chapter 10

_Once Upon a Time (He Was Their Protector)_

The fire was _red_. Everywhere he looked, he just saw _red_. Blood and fire. _Everywhere_. It became his _greatest _fear, the colour red, a terror, a reminder of his _failure_ to protect the forest from the _destructive _nature of humans.

And that would _just not do_.

He was _Shere Khan_, fearsome and terrifying and a _monster_ (_protector_). So he _embraced _red. Everything he owned was the colour of _fireandbloodandroses_. And when a little -_human_\- boy was left outside his den (_Just like Mowgli_), he _refused_ to let his mates eat the child. Instead, he named it Red, a final conquering of his _irrational_ fear.

And so he _swore_ to never let the child want for _anything_. He was the _protector_, of the forest and his son.

Red was raised as a tiger, on raw meat and blood and violence, and he _loved_ it. He built up a _craving_ for it, so bad that he'd sneak out and kill for the _sport_ because hunting could no longer satisfy the _urge_, the _desperate desire _for human blood. (Because he _wasn't_ human, no matter _what_ they said, because humans were _weak_, that was what father said, and he wasn't _weak_, he _refused_ to be weak).

And when little Alice crept into their den and brought an axe down on his father's neck, Red watched from the shadows, eyes glinting. When she picked up the severed head, he _pounced_, claws extended, and brought them down against her skin, leaving eight deep scars, dripping with blood. And he picked up his father's head, placing it back against the body (no one on the Isle of the Lost would die, but they couldn't be reborn without all the original pieces. Many people walked into Felicia Facilier's shop and walked out with a single finger, keeping their enemies from rebirth after death).

He let Alice (not _the _Alice) go, though. He admired her bravery, her bloodlust, her _madness_, her willingness to kill. And his father attempted to punish him for it, but Red just smirked and walked out of the cave, putting his most _human _qualities to use, applying for allocated living space and smirking at his father as he prowled through the streets, blaming his kills on the _tiger pack_, until he was forgiven and allowed back into their midst.

{_By that point, he and Alice already met regularly._}

When High Queen Mal the Powerful finally took over Auradon, no one in _Shere Khan's_ pack turned against each other (or so he thought, because couldn't he _see _his son's glistening eyes when he hung back while the pack hunted?). Instead, they worked together, and he and Red ripped Mowgli (that bastard) _limb from limb_.

Then the _slaughter_ came. Red killed his _entire pack_, cackling and screaming, demented and _driven_ by bloodlust. And he stayed feral, because he was a human, and humans were _monsters_ and he was red and his father never _truly_ overcame his fear.

(Because tigers were _liars,_ and you couldn't trust any of them, and Red was _raised_ as a tiger.)


	11. Wrath: Chapter 11

_Once Upon a Time (They Were Pretty and Rich)_

Drizella Tremaine was a drunkard and a _whore_. And her son was _retarded_ and her _husband_ was a _no show_. She had no _money_ and no _future_ and no _prince _to marry.

Dimitri Tremaine was handsome and _cocky_ and a _thief_, but he was also born in wedlock and made sure his mother had food and was in _love__**.**_

One look, dark room  
Meant just for you  
Time moved too fast  
You played it back

Anastasia Tremaine was a _businesswoman_, like her mummy, and she was good at dancing, so she taught it, just like she taught her daughter to dodge blows and use her _manners._

Astoria Tremaine was prettier than her mother, and she could dance and sing better than her, and she was _in love_, but she was also a bastard and good at _coercion_.

Buttons on a coat  
Light-hearted joke  
No proof, not much  
But you saw enough

Dimitri and Astoria would often sneak out as children, and sneak out even more when they were teenagers. They were good at stealing and better at _coercion_, a handsome _couple_ like them. And Astoria _idolised_ the femme fatale, and Dimitri was simply _charming_, a classic _sociopath._

Small talk, he drives  
Coffee at midnight,  
The light reflects  
The chain on your neck  
He says, "look up"  
And your shoulders brush  
No proof, one touch  
You felt enough

She's been told time and time and _time_ over time that it's _wrong_. She doesn't _know_ anything for a fact, but she _feels _it. Astoria, well, she knows what _faking_ looks like, and _his_ light touches, his never-ending smiles when he looks at her, they're _not it_.

You can hear it in the silence, silence  
You can feel it on the way home, way home  
You can see it with the lights out, lights out  
You're in love, true love  
You are in love

She can't _say_ anything. That would be suicide, and she isn't _dumb_. She knows what they feel is _wrong_, but _God_, this is the _Isle_, and what's wrong is right and what's right is wrong (but shouldn't that mean that what's right is _also_ right?).

Morning, his place  
Burnt toast, Sunday  
You keep his shirt  
He keeps his word  
And for once you let go  
Of your fears and your ghosts  
One step, not much, but it said enough

_She _isn't willing to make a move, but Dimitri sure as _Hell_ is. His mother is _out_ and so Astoria sleeps over, and they lie shoulder to shoulder in the bed and it's like when they were kids and everything was just _simple_. That morning he tries to make her breakfast and _fails abysmally_, but he kisses her anyway. She leaves in the wrong shirt, but it's worth it.

You kissed on sidewalks  
You fight and you talk  
One night he wakes, a strange look on his face  
Pauses, then says, "you're my best friend"  
And you knew what it was, he is in love

There will never be professions of _love_ between the two of them, because where they live, love is _wrong_, and even if love was right, their love wouldn't be. They flaunt it, though, because they _belong_ to each other, and they _will_ show that, regardless of whether Drizella calls her niece a _filthy whore _or Anastasia has a '_falling out'_ with her nephew.

You can hear it in the silence, silence  
You can feel it on the way home, way home  
You can see it with the lights out, lights out  
You're in love, true love

When Mal becomes the reigning queen, hell hath no fury. While the other Descendants are killing and maiming and punishing their parents, Astoria and Dimitri decided to _keep _theirs. They sober up Drizella and give their mothers aprons and _ashes_ to sleep in. They will _work _to earn the keep.

So it goes  
You two are dancing in a snow globe, round and round  
And he keeps the picture of you in his office downtown  
You understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars  
And why I've spent my whole life trying to put it into words

They live a _simple_ life, leaving others in their places on the throne, and make the decisions behind the scenes, because _no matter_ where they are, they aren't _accepted_. They never will be, even among their own, they _know_, but they just need themselves and the pain they inflict on others.

Cause you can hear in the silence  
You can feel it on the way home  
You can see it with the lights out  
You're in love, true love  
You're in love


	12. Wrath: Chapter 12

_Once Upon a Time (Women Fell at His Feet)_

One time, when Gaston knocked up a Bimbette, he got a two-for-one package deal out of it. Two little children, a boy and a girl, and he named them Gaston Jr and Gizelle, French names to remind them that they were supposed to be in _France_.

And he wasn't a _bad_ father, not really.

Sure, he sometimes forgot to have food on the tables or clothes for his children, and rarely looked after them when they were sick, but they'd take that over Drizella the Drunkard or The Queen of Hearts or even Shere Khan (who _claimed _to love his son). That is, they would've taken it until Gizelle got sick. Then they _wished_ their father had a use for them, because he'd need them healthy, and he'd fix her.

But as it was, Gizelle died. She died in her sleep, too sick to even wake up. A common fate on the Isle of the Lost. Gaston Jr, who had been so _polite_ before, told himself it was _his _fault. Anyone who was kind on the Isle, anyone who made attachments, they were _punished._ So he threw himself into fights, and did as the villains commanded, a silently _hated_ his father, because _Gaston _was the reason that Gizelle was _dead_, and there was no coming back from _that_.

And then, when he grew older, he told himself it was _their_ fault, the Iron Court, because they'd been pushing him and Gizelle around for _years_ and who else could it be, because people didn't just get _sick_ like that, not even on the Isle of the Lost {_he was half right_}. So he fought, and accused, and bargained and pled and argued, trying to prove his point. He punished them by sending them through the motions of _endless_ trials, even though he _knew_ who it was, _knew_ they would never be caught.

He punished his father by out-buying him for anything he needed, from food to clothing, and especially medicine. _Always_ medicine. He'd get on the barges first to make sure he could take anything _good_, anything that Gaston could _possibly_ want, and sold them to Jafar for such a high price that he knew that the _monster_ that had fathered him would be incapable of paying.

When Queen Mal freed them all, he didn't wait for _permission_, or even until he got off the Isle. The second he knew he could escape, he drove the dagger Gizelle had given him into his father's stomach.

Gaston pleaded.

Said he was _sorry_. He was _desperate_. That he _loved_ Gizelle as much as his son did. He was a _liar_. He hadn't mourned when Gizelle died, he'd revelled in the extra food they'd have now that the _brat_ was dead. Gaston was a liar. A dying liar.

Gaston never cared for anyone but himself.

(But his son cared too much, and left it at that.)


	13. Wrath: Chapter 13

_Once Upon a Time (Her Beauty was Immortal)_

Darling Rapunzel had her own song _the song of immortality. _Miranda Gothel had a different song. Mother Gothel had believed that songs had healing powers, and above that, she believed that raising a child would redeem her of her sins. Miranda's song was from old folklore- a song about sins being forgiven.

Her mama would sing it every night as she brushed her hair uncut hair out. Mother Gothel took no chances. If _her _daughter, her baby held the power to immortality, she'd be _rich_. Of course, it wasn't like you could die, or even _age_ on the Isle. But still.

_Their_ nightly song was much more intimidating than Rapunzel's. A song about bathing in the blood of angels and redemption of the damned. A perfect song for the Isle of the Lost.

'_There is a fountain filled with blood drawn from Emmanuel's veins;  
And sinners plunged beneath that flood lose all their guilty stains.  
Lose all their guilty stains, lose all their guilty stains;  
And sinners plunged beneath that flood lose all their guilty stains._

_The dying thief rejoiced to see that fountain in his day;  
And there have I, though vile as he, washed all my sins away.  
Washed all my sins away, washed all my sins away;  
And there have I, though vile as he, washed all my sins away._

_Dear dying Lamb, Thy precious blood shall never lose its power  
Till all the ransomed church of God be saved, to sin no more.  
Be saved, to sin no more, be saved, to sin no more;  
Till all the ransomed church of God be saved, to sin no more._

_When this poor lisping, stammering tongue lies silent in the grave.  
Then in a nobler, sweeter song, I'll sing, Thy power to save,  
I'll sing Thy power to save, I'll sing, Thy power to save,  
Then in a nobler, sweeter song, I'll sing Thy power to save.'_

Miranda knew, she'd known her whole life, that she was the lamb. She was the blood her mother would use to wash her sins away. She didn't like it (everyone wanted to _live_) but she'd come to accept it. She knew, in her darkest heart, that she, the innocent of the Isle, the girl locked away for as long as she'd been born (a copy of Rapunzel) was doomed from the day she was born.

When she reached the age of majority (13 on the Isle) her mama would kill her. Bathe herself in her daughter's blood.

Carlos rescued her. They'd often been locked together in their youth. She was two days away from thirteen, and Carlos rescued her. He carried her away and kept her in the palace because her feet got cuts from the grass and her skin tore up in the sun. She was the purest thing the Isle had ever created, and he wanted to keep it that way.

Her mama was slaughtered by order of the King. No one contested the movement. Carlos had a special place in his heart for her (a stone cold, broken heart that only held place for four).

Mother Gothel had treated her as a delicate flower, and it had permanently altered her state of being. She was softer, more fragile than all of the Isle, a piece of the finest art that would live forever for all the potions gently spooned into her mouth as a child. She was beauty and grace and kindness and honesty, a shock for any Isle raised child (she would've been a _hero_, but Carlos was her _saviour_ and she was taught to never betray those who save you).

Mother Gothel didn't live forever as she wished. Her life was long, but _no one _can live forever.

(Except her daughter.)


	14. Wrath: Chapter 14

_Once Upon a Time (He Had Friends on the Other Side)_

Twenty-one-year-old Felicia Facilier was _deadly_. Her father raised her as a demon, to make deals and cash in on the souls of innocents. They would serve you. People with whom you'd made deals would be your friends, your supernatural partners for taking over the world. But her father never completed _his_ end of the deal.

She did.

Allies were _so much more_ willing to help if you gave them what they asked for. Bones of an innocent? She'd have it by Samhain when the walls were weakest and her _friends_ could grant her wishes. Felicia could have broken down the barrier. She knew. Her father didn't. Her customers didn't. She didn't break it down _because_ of them. They were her power and her customers and her friends on the other side.

Losing them? Would be to lose the game, and she couldn't let _that_ happen.

{_Felicia provided **other** services too. Services even the single hospital didn't provide, services that made her vomit into the toilet bowl every night, because she knew she had to do it, knew she was doing the right thing for those girls, but Christ, it was awful, watching them writhe, scream, and beg for her **not to stop**. Not that she could_}.

Felicia was unaffected by the four going to Auradon. They weren't customers, and they owed her nothing. Smart kids. Knew what they were about.

{_Or, that's what she said. Really, she knew, any debt would be paid, no matter the distance_}.

She couldn't even feel that much betrayal at them when they betrayed Maleficent. Really, this worked better for her purposes. More and more people came, desperate for a way off, to _crush_ the scumbags who would betray the Isle.

What would they think if they knew about her?

Her daddy had died young, in the real world. In their world, he was her greatest customer, addicted to all the magicks she could give him because she was born on the Isle, and the barrier had only half the effect on voodoo. In their world, her daddy had forced her to braid patterns into her hair for better magic collection, even though it pushed her skull tight. In their world, her fingers were capped by bone pieces and her necklace was made of teeth and magic flowed through the silver and bone piercings in her mouth and nose till she choked on it. She didn't even _use_ magic.

In the real world, her daddy would pay.

Debts were three times the price in the real world. Ten times the price in theirs. She wouldn't cash in until he lay on his deathbed and owed her thousands of years of service. He would never rest in peace, never fulfil his debt. He'd be stuck in the halfway for all eternity, unable to serve her to fill his debt, unable to move on until he did. A perfect conundrum.

Her daddy wasn't very good at paying his debts.

(But she was.)


	15. Wrath: Chapter 15

_Once Upon a Time (She was Always Pathetic)_

Madame Medusa was beaten by _rats_. Tiny little rodents with sharp teeth and whiskers and paws and a cheese fetish. She was a friend of the _crocodiles, _a far more terrifying beast than any mouse, but somehow, they beat her, and while she'd always been a dirt-broke drunkard with no prospects, now she was a dirt-broke drunkard with no prospects who couldn't defeat a rat.

It was a wonder her son was even born.

No one _wanted _to sleep with her.

She was lucky Captain Hook was also very good at getting drunk.

Then Mikhail was born.

If she'd told him, Hook would've been _over the moon_ (if she knew, she would've told him).

As it was, she raised Mikhail; he raised Helena (Helena wasn't hers, she didn't _think_).

When he got older, Mikhail ran Madame Medusa's Boutique and Pawn Shop.

Cheap labour.

How wonderful.

Mikhail was very good at driving hard bargains. He could get a person to pay ten times for a pocketwatch what he did and consider it a good buy. People would pawn off priceless magical artefacts (the Medusas weren't magick, but coveted the items anyway) for 10c a piece. The only people he _couldn't _cheat were they Tremains, but they stayed far, _far_ away from his part of the Isle (even the Isle of the Lost had Uptown and Downtown, and he lived in the latter) so they had a sort of an uneasy truce.

(Later in their relationship, they'd sneak into the pawn shop, because _no one _expected to see the Tremaine cousins anywhere _near _Madame Medusa's, so they could kiss all they wanted.)

(It was only slightly weird.)

He always let Evie in (even though he knew that she was beguiling him) because she was kind and sweet and never stole (even though that friend of hers did) and kept Maleficent's daughter away.

(In downtown, they called her the Witch, and Evie the Whore and their friends were called the Thief and the Troublemaker.)

At some point, the Boutique and Pawn Shop became the secret meet-up spot for relationships parents didn't approve of.

He didn't really mind- unless they stole.

(If they stole, he had Brutus and Nero fetch the goods back.)

(They rarely failed.)

When the daughter of Maleficent (who was now seen as _the mother of Mal_) killed her king, he didn't rejoice. It wasn't much of a change, really.

The Pawn Shop moved.

He changed its name.

He poisoned his mother.

He went on with his life.

His mother wasn't a major villain, she was just a drunkard.

(That was okay because he didn't have a kingdom, but he had a mansion and a wife and a daughter)

{That was all she wanted.}


	16. Wrath: Chapter 16

_Once Upon a Time (He Was Lighthearted and Playful)_

Sid Phillips was _normal_. In his world, there were no talking rats or magic, there were no evil queens or voodoo or any other sort of nonsense. In his world, there was a president, and there were Saturday barbeques and school like any other normal human.

Except, apparently, in his world, toys came alive. And they could _beat_ people. They were strong and he was weak and _how? _because he was a _kid_, and kids were _supposed_ to play with toys, weren't they?

* * *

Except apparently, they weren't.

And now he was tossed on the _Isle_, because of his actions as a child, as a little boy who didn't know better. And now here he was with villains of stories he'd only ever _dreamed_ about (Cinderella's evil stepsisters, for one, and Maleficent. _The_ Maleficent, she was here, because apparently, his '_crimes_' somehow matched up to hers. They were _toys_, for Godsakes, and how was he supposed to know they came alive?)

He had grown up, grown out of his old mania, headed off to college to become a lawyer before some weirdo freaks with magic "seized him in the name of the King" what the fuck was with that? Apparently, his 'sins' against toys in his childhood were so bad that that kid who'd lived next to him (Anthony? Andrew?)'s toys were suing him, but he didn't get a trial. Oh no. Those _fuckers_ tossed him on this madhouse.

He couldn't practise law anymore, couldn't even continue school because there was no tertiary education here, and the only school there was had lessons that included _'Hostages 101'_ and _'Potions and Poisons'_.

His daughter, Sally-Anne, was homeschooled. He kept her away from the riffraff and the weirdos that inhabited the Isle's school. Sally-Anne was _normal_. She didn't care for hostages or any of that other crap they tried to sell to these kids, didn't believe in _magic_ or _Samhain_ or any of that shit- because it wasn't _real_.

He kept her inside anyway, because, with these freaks, you never knew what they believed in, and they took Halloween decorations too far anyway.

Those four that were always pushing people over and stepping in people's laundry were shipped off, and he regained hope. Sally-Anne could be chosen, go and study law, and get him out. But that never happened, because King Ben immediately scrapped the programme and then High Queen Mal (what was it with these people and royalty? You want to rule? _Communism_.) took over and they were _nuts_.

Sally-Anne went through _hell_ on the Isle of the Lost. She suffered in a way no one else did because she wasn't magick, she wasn't powerful, and she wasn't crafty. But she was beautiful. Sally-Anne was gorgeous, with pale skin and red lips and hundreds of freckles. She was stunning, with her curly black locks and grey eyes {_she'd once been asked by Queen Evie if she was a succubus, but she wasn't. She was just a very, very pretty human_}. So Sally-Anne suffered, because a beauty of her calibre on the Isle was rare, and it was even rarer that the beauty didn't come with a _deadly_ cost {_only Hayden survived_}.

Sally-Anne was raised without toys because her Daddy was _far_ too suspicious. She was raised in solitude, leaving the house only on the most important of occasions {_or so her Daddy thought_}. She was raised wearing frocks and baby doll shoes, she was raised to be _normal_ and _suburban_ and a whole lot of other things that she _wasn't_. She was raised by her Daddy and she loved him, but she was also raised by Queen Evie and King Carlos and King Jay, under the direction of Queen Mal. Sally-Anne never knew _why_ they took her in, but she was grateful. _No one_ was kept safe on the Isle {_except for Miranda Gothel, but she didn't count. She was __**Athena**__, according to King Carlos, and that meant she was untouchable}._

When King Jay and King Carlos and Queen Evie went to Auradon, at the request of the Crown Prince, everything became a lot harder again. She had to fight through hoards to get to the barge, and the men in the streets started trailing their hands across her thighs and calves again, and she started retreating to her Daddy's house, where she'd at least be _safe_.

* * *

Sally-Anne killed her Daddy because it was the thing to do, not because she held any grudge against him {_or so she told herself. But when she looked in her mirror at night, when her husband stared at her scars with disgust, she knew there was __**more**_ _to why she'd held a pistol to his head and fired point blank. She also knew she'd never tell that to anyone_}. Sally-Anne had two beautiful baby girls and a husband who loved her more than Jessie had loved Woody {_wasn't_ _all that hard. She could've just married the first man she met_} when she was killed. They were all killed with her. Sally-Anne was killed because she killed her father, who had loved her {_at least in his own way_}.

Sally-Anne's murderer was kept by the Blood Palace, in a special cell designed by High Queen Mal, and _tortured_ into his old age. _Tortured_ into insanity, because Sally-Anne had always been under the Queens' protection, and that was an incontestable _fact_. Sally-Anne lived on in the Isles of the Blest, under Hayley's careful watch, at the order of High Queen Mal.

But Sally-Anne was killed because all anyone on the Isle ever wanted was a parent who loved them.

(And Sally-Anne had that, but killed him anyway).


	17. Wrath: Chapter 17

_Once Upon a Time (He Would Never Be King)_

He was the youngest of twelve. _Twelve_. He would never have been king if he didn't take matters into his own hands. It was so easy, really. Darling, darling Anna was so easy to manipulate and would've been just as easy to kill, except apparently her sister found out that love was more powerful than fear and he believed that that was total bull, but it had defeated him and that had to mean something.

He was strong, and far, far more evil than Maleficent because she couldn't kill, and he was so, so willing to kill if only he would get what he wanted. But apparently, that wasn't good enough. And now he would never rule. He'd lost on the Seven Isles, Arendelle, Auradon, and the Isle of the Lost. Even though Maleficent wasn't in charge. She was deluded and powerful, yes, but she didn't rule the Isle.

That _honour_ befell Mal Lilith (although she went by Bertha to those who didn't know her _true_ nature) le Fay, of the line Morgana, born to the arcane magicks, Truthseeker and Fae Queen, Champion of the Pale Rider. Alongside her served Evie Amara Grimhildejardöttir, Seducer of the Strongest and representative of Conquest, Jay Jafarson, a born-free genie and War's consort, and finally, Carlos de Vil, the Slaughterer and Chosen of Pestilence.

No one in Auradon knew, though, if they knew there were _children_ with such powerful magicks on the Isle, they wouldn't hesitate to kill everyone in a blast (the heroes weren't as heroic as they liked to seem).

His son, Prince Hayden (because he'd never been disowned, not officially, although his mother had said she was disappointed that he was her final son. But officially, if he got out, he still had a home in the Southern Isles) was taught to be charming and ready and powerful and how to use his wealth to win friends and influence people.

Hayden could kill, and easily. Blood had no effect on him, and it was so so so _so_ easy. His father taught him one other thing- revenge. He would get revenge on the _bitch_ and her _slut_ of a sister who had rejected him for an ice miner. They would pay and he would rule as he was meant to, his father would tell him. Revenge and power always came in the same breath.

Prince Hayden was let out by Queen Evie because they'd always had _relations _back in the day. And he let his father out, and his father married Anna (a beautiful wedding, with beautiful jewellery for the bride. Handcuffs and a collar went well with white) and moved to the Southern Isles, and that was that, but Prince (now _King_) Hayden married that infernally frozen bitch, who didn't _age_ because she was frozen in time, from what they could tell, and he ruled Arendelle, which his father never managed to get round to.

(Because sometimes force was better than niceties.)


	18. Wrath: Chapter 18

_Once Upon a Time (He Saw All the Gold in the World)_

Governor Ratcliffe was a _racist_. He was cruel and harsh and wanted to kill everyone who didn't have pale skin and English features. He didn't believe in the other cultures of the world {_all they were was bullshit_}. He didn't believe in other religions, didn't understand the concept of _gods_, plural. There was only one God, and anyone who thought otherwise {_anyone who spoke to spirits in willow trees_} was a _heathen_.

That was why he like Captain John Smith so much. World-famous in the colonies (sent specially from London) the man who conquered and tamed the _savages_ of the new world. He did find the Captain too free-spirited, too wild, but he'd deal with that if it meant the death of the savages, of Powhatan and _princess Pocahontas_ and their tribe that were concealing the gold that he _knew_ was just around the corner.

He had never spoken of the events that followed the creation of the Jamestown settlement {_certainly not of her marriage to John Rolfe, a white man_}, not of Captain Smith's deflection and the subsequent gunshot wound.

He passed all of his beliefs on, to his daughter Gianna. She was Aryan and had been born with hate in her heart, said the legend of the Isle of the Lost {_no one ever spoke the truth; her mother was half-Powhatan, born in the Tsenacommacah_}. Gianna had been hurling racial slurs and beating up the _impure_ behind taverns as long as she could remember.

One day, it went a little too far. The blood of a black man's skull dropped against a rusted pipe, and her hands were covered in the same blood. He didn't _ever_ stand up again. And sure, Gianna stashed the body, but now she had a _taste_ for killing, and she _loved _it. And so, all the _scum_ on the Isle, all the ones who weren't as good, as _civilised _as she was, all the _savages_, she _eradicated_ them. Stole their food and their money, let them starve and go poor because that's what they did to her and her daddy.

And then the Isle four went over there, and dear _lord_, they made friends with half-dwarves and _Asians _and all sorts of pathetic scum, and what she wouldn't give to go over there and _kill. Them. All_.

{_She had made several attempts on Felicia Facilier's life, but that was all they were, attempts, because the voodoo **bitch** thought she was too good to die_}.

And when High Queen Mal gave her _free reign_, to kill her bastard father who she'd caught in _bed_ with a Red Indian _whore_, Governor Ratcliffe was hanged, the proper _British_ way to kill someone.

To kill Pochahontas.

Not long after that, Gianna was locked in the Blood Palace and _tortured_, eventually _murdered_ {_she broke her contract, they said. And besides. __Mal was fae, and Evie was a succubus, and Jay was a djinn and __**did she really think she'd get away with calling them half-breeds?**_}.

All that killing had messed with her brain, and Gianna was mad, _demented_. She screamed and laughed in the chambers of the Blood Palace, and when she was put to death, her last request was to sleep with a _Powhatan_ {_she killed the woman afterwards, before Chad Charming could escort her out_}.

(Because her daddy hated the savages, he turned her into what he hated most.).


	19. Lust

**Lust: Haven't You Heard the Word of Your Body?**

* * *

Hindsight was 20/20.

It had been five years since Mal and her friends had stood up to their parents, five years since they had "come home". Five years of friendship and apple pies and late movie nights and learning and hope for the future.

It had been four years since the VK programme was scrapped. Four years of food hoarding, of dates with Mal, and four years since Evie had broken up with Doug. Four years of trips to the Isle to implement clean water sources and give them proper food (Ben had never, never known that the Isle kids had survived on scraps).

It had been three years since Queen-Mother Belle had invited the Isle Four to stay with them over the holidays. Three years of night terrors and Mal waking up screaming and weekend Tourney matches and Ben being _pretty certain_ that he was in love with Mal.

It had been two years since Evie had graduated at the top of their class. Two years since Ben had asked Mal to move in with him and two years of her coming home late smelling like apples and cinnamon and cyanide (Evie) and salt and sweat and pine and leather (a mix of Jay and Carlos), masking her own scent of paint and magic and smoke that clung to her skin since the forest fire on the Isle.

It had been one year since Ben had asked her to marry him. One year of a _black _wedding dress, one year of roses _with _thorns, and one year of her crying over Maleficent. One year of love and evening strolls and tea and etiquette lessons with his mother.

And now they came to today. The church {_a compromise, Mal had wanted the wedding in the moors, a true fae wedding, but Auradon traditions won out in this case_} was decked out in silver and gold and blue and purple, an awful combination, according to Audrey, but it wasn't Audrey's wedding, was it?

Jay and Carlos were nowhere to be seen, probably with the bridal party, making sure Mal was ready {_they were Ben's groomsmen, but he didn't begrudge them this- they'd known Mal for far longer than he had, after all_}.

Evie was making last-second corrections, perfecting her flower decorations and straightening the tapestries, making sure the wedding was perfect. Her happiness for Mal and her desperation for perfection were absolute because she'd pledged never to marry {_even once they'd escaped, the Isle four put in all their efforts into spiting their parents_}.

* * *

The March began, and all eyes turned away from the altar.

Mal was gorgeous, an honest-to-god _angel _in her wedding dress, the perfect version of a blushing bride- in spite of her curling black and red dress. The train was carried by two little girls, two peasants whose parents had been teacups in the Beast's palace. She practically danced down the aisle, and you could only barely see her Isle-born stalking gait. Evie walked plainly in front of her, as pretty as if it were her wedding, a smile curling around her lips. She skipped (literally skipped) in front of Mal, but behind Lonnie, Carla Charming and Audrey {_Mal had only allowed Audrey into the bridal party because Ben had begged. He wanted his __once_ _best friend and his fianceé to get along, even if it were only just for his wedding_}. The march (traditional, not Isle-styled, because none of them had known the music for the less-traditional wedding march) led her slowly down the aisle, and his eyes were fixed. His father had offered to hand her over, but she'd refused. In the fashion of the fae, she'd wanted (wished, prayed) that her mother would feel enough love to hand her over (the one who passed on the magick was the one to pass over the bride), but her mother hadn't, and so she'd enlisted the Fairy Godmother, her tutor in magick, to give her away. And so Fairy Godmother beamed, delighted as she walked the girl she'd come to see as a surrogate daughter {_Jane had never been willing to learn the magicks_} over into her future.

Their vows were sweet and honest. Mal promised him no grand declarations of love, no abundance of children, but she promised to try to be the best queen Auradon could expect from an Isle child {_it wasn't in her vow, but every guest could hear the unspoken words hovering in the church_}.

Ben promised her all his love and time as he was able to give, and to try his best to guide her through the customs she hadn't grown up with, and meant every word. He loved Mal as the Sun loved the Moon and all the Stars, and swore he would treasure her beyond any jewel or piece of gold the palace could offer.

* * *

The reception was three days long, and every night was more tiring than the last. Mal's feet carried the blisters feet unaccustomed to heels and his hands were tired and red, jumpy from all the congratulatory handshakes. However, they participated in the wedding games with all the enthusiasm of a newly-wed couple.

Mal had _insisted _that the peasants be welcomed into the reception, unheard of as it was. And, as little girls and boys ran around shrieking with joy, chasing frogs and rabbits to their heart's content, Ben could see why. Everyone, even the visiting nobles who had initially disproved the idea, were happier, full of the laughter and brightness the children brought. _She will be a wonderful queen_, he thought, watching her interact with some of the children, hitching up her skirts so that she could chase after them, _and an even greater mother_. The thought shocked him. Motherhood was not _spoken _about among males in Auradon, but rather something that women kept between themselves when they cooked (if they were lower-class) or spoke at tea parties (if they were nobility). But now, he thought about it. Mal would be a wonderful mother, even if hers was so awful. Look at the heroes. Most of them (Cinderella, to say the least) had had terrible childhoods, but their children had turned out wonderfully.

{_Ben didn't know, couldn't, that Mal had no intention of bearing him children, that on the Isle she had been raised to know that children were not the greatest thing a woman could amount to, unlike the girls in Auradon_}.

Slowly, the nobles, and then the peasants, retired to wherever they were staying the night. They had worn themselves out in the last days, and now that the revelries were over, were more than willing to return to their normal lives. The wedding had been a break, for most of them, in the monotonous tone of their lives, but now they had worn themselves out and longed to return to their routines.

But, as king and queen, their night wasn't quite over. One last thing remained. To consummate the wedding- another Auradonian tradition, before they left for their honeymoon. Ben felt his nerves mounting, even as Mal looked cool and collected, laughing with Evie and Carlos and Jay over something, a champagne flute in her hand. _She looked_, thought Ben _as if she'd been raised to be a queen and not a villain_. She looked as though she'd been attending parties like these all her life, instead of the rowdy messes with hard alcohol (his introduction to vodka was a night to remember- or it would be, if he could) and women she said you could pay to take their clothes off, and awful renditions of the heroes 'theme songs' she'd called them nastily.

She looked, in short, like a _ruler_.

He drifted over, and she looked up. She smiled and winked conspiratorially at Evie, who planted a kiss on his cheek and grabbed "her boys'' {_as she'd referred to them since she'd broken up with Doug_} hands, and dragged them away from the gazebo, calling after Mal that she'd see her in the morning- whatever that meant, as they were due to their honeymoon early, and she and Mal would not actually have time to see each other before they left. Mal linked their arms into each other and started them on a slow walk through the gardens, slowly but surely directing them back towards the palace. Her hands brushed over the roses, white and pink and orange, but not red, because Queen Alice {_something they only called her when she emerged from the metal hospital her family had locked her in_} had flashbacks when it came to red roses. She had, at some point in the night, kicked her shoes off somewhere, so her dress dragged on the dirt and her bare feet poked out from underneath when she took a step. Her hair, grown out and dyed brown for the ceremony, had been swept to one side, and her lipstick had washed off soon after she'd found the strawberries.

She looked _gorgeous_.

And as they strolled across the gardens, her hands drifted. They went lower to untuck his shirt, and lower still, dipping past his boxers and her mouth followed them down, kissing down his neck and biting lightly. He could feel her smirk against his skin, and the heat of her hands as the blood rushed _down_.

He picked her up (sometimes his _beastly_ strength showed up at the most _useful_ moments) and they quickly made their way back into the palace, her hands still wandering _up_ and _down_ and _everywhere._ Her heady scent of paint and smoke and _magic_ lingered in his head, making rational thought difficult.

When they arrived in _their _new rooms {_and God, he never got tired of saying it. Their new life. Their crowns and their thrones and their future together_}, he set her down, expecting _more_ of what had been happening in the gardens. Instead, she told him to wait and stalked off into the closet.

* * *

Ben had no expectations of what was to come next. He'd never done this before. He _could _have. He'd had plenty of opportunities, but had always liked the idea of remaining pure and untouched until marriage. All of this wasn't to say that he had no clue what he was doing. Auradon was closeted about things like pornography and strip clubs, but even those still existed. So, maybe he had had some expectations.

_Weren't they supposed to collapse to the bed, kissing?_

_Wasn't he supposed to take off her wedding gown?_

But those expectations were overshadowed by the overarching question: _what was that pixie doing? _And yeah, he knew that it was _extremely_ derogatory to call the fae pixies, but she was just making him _so mad_-

_She was wearing a corset_. Mal had always refused to wear gowns with corsets, said they suffocated her, didn't give her room to _fight_. But here she stood, in a corset made of black lace {_and dragon bone_}, a deep purple garter belt, and stockings {_and nothing else_}. The way she stood, powerful, dominating, commanding him to look at her, sent blood rushing through his body, made his head light. He leaned back against the mahogany headboard and just gazed at her gorgeous body {_it was all his_}. And he _knew_ that he could never live without Mal, that he'd go to war for her and die for her, as long as they could be together forever.

And she was in his lap again, kissing and touching and holding and _restraining_ and he loved this woman so much that it was _hurting _him. She pushed him down softly, pulling his hands up above his head. And he was so distracted by the _beauty_ before him that he didn't even notice what she was doing until he heard the _click_ of handcuffs securing his wrists to the headboard.

His wife slid down over his body as he pulled at the cuffs, pulling him into another kiss, "Relax, babe. Just think about it. How good will it feel to want to _touch_ me, to _ache_ for it, and not be able to…" her whispers trailed off in his ear, and she trailed kisses down his jaw, "Think about how _crazy_ it will drive you when you finally do touch me."

He had wanted to share sex with her, to introduce her to the wonders of her body, but as she spoke, the handcuffs against his wrists felt better and better, and her idea sounded _so_ appealing. Later, they'd share sex the way he'd pictured it; but now, he just wanted to feel what _his_ Mal would do next. And so he went lax, allowing her to secure his feet to the other bedposts.

From between her breasts, she pulled out a small knife. It had a black handle with a sigil carved into it and was made of silver. She trailed it over his chest, "I just need to unwrap you, babe," she smiled comfortingly, "this is an athame. It's a ceremonial knife, used by witches and fae. To give us luck, baby." She slowly brought the knife down, splitting the seams of his wedding finery.

A few minutes later {_minutes that felt like hours_} his suit lay in tatters on the floor. And he was completely bare {_he didn't feel uncomfortable, just __**real**_}. The new Queen of Auradon climbed on top of her husband and sank down onto him, slowly. Giving both of them time to adjust {_not that she needed it_}. And he lost himself, into the world of her body, common sense flying out the window and leaving only the primal senses.

"You're doing amazing, babe," she cooed, kissing his neck, "so amazing, babe. I feel so good." And the way he _felt_ was so _amazing_ that he didn't consider anything else. None of his pre-wedding fears {_Mal, laughing and smiling and touching Jay and Carlos and even Evie_} had any hold over him anymore. Her hands were reaching _down_, now, and she was _touching herself while she was on top of him_.

They reached their climax together {_a feat carefully orchestrated by the magick vows of the wedding_}.

And Mal just stayed on top of him.

"You're not half-bad, darling," she told him conversationally, "not the best I've ever had, but I never thought you could beat _them_." She smiled down on him and climbed off, rolling over to the other side of the bed and reaching up- not to uncuff him, as he'd thought, but to pull the axe that hung above the bed down. She sat up, stretched the axe over her head, and smiled.

"You're about to give me the greatest wedding present a woman could ever ask for, Ben," she told him, positioning herself on her knees, axe above his neck, "your country."

As she raised the axe high, Ben knew that he was going to die. And yet he couldn't regret his choices. Mal and Jay and Carlos and Evie, they were his friends. He'd brought them here and shown them _good_ and he loved them. He loved Mal, and what he'd done was the right thing. With his last moments, he desperately hoped that he and Mal had conceived a child this night. A child that would one day grow up to be a hero beyond the calibre of his mother and father. And then the axe fell and there was nothing left to see.

* * *

Mal walked out of the chambers. She held a sheet over her otherwise nude body and grasped the final key for _revenge_ in her hand. She walked around the palace that was now _hers_, all _hers and Evie's and Carlos's and Jay's._ She wanted this, she _deserved _this after years of torture and selling her body because her mother needed food. She was a _queen_, and Maleficent was nothing. Sunlight streamed through the window, and blood dripped from her prize down into the thick carpets. The camera was waiting in the entrance chamber, for her and her _love_ to declare the consummation of their marriage and ride off into the sun. They would get _lovers_, alright. And they would get their queen.

All in all, no one expected that the muffin Mal gave Ben was not, in fact, an anti-love spell, but rather, a spell to keep it more firmly in place. No one expected that every single move in the last _five_ years had been orchestrated by the four children from the Isle. But looking back, it was obvious that they were lovers, and it was obvious that they were liars. It just took a little blood and sex and death for Ben to see that.

(Too bad it was too late).


	20. Vanity: Chapter 1

**Vanity: No Escaping the Crown**

* * *

_The Rescuers_

Penny was pretty and young when she defeated her villain (it wasn't difficult- Madame Medusa was _old_ and _drunk_, and not very good at anything {_she was almost certainly mad_}) and it led to her abounding happiness and adoration from crowds. For an orphan, it was a dream come true. For a little girl who'd prayed for love, it was a message from God.

For a teenager, and eventually a young adult, it made for a spoiled brat.

Penny lived in a mansion. A cold, lonely mansion, but a mansion nonetheless. And her governess accepted the first offer for marriage that came her way.

So she married a nice man, Lord Frederick Annington (not quite the standard that was deserved by a _hero_, but it was too late to change her mind {_and she wasn't that much of a hero anyway_}).

Her husband _spoiled_ her. Trips to Paris in the spring, and Mauritius in the summer. They went skiing down the alps in the winter, and in the fall they stayed in Auradon, gorgeous as it was, and he would buy her pearls and diamonds and silk brocades and anything that caught her eye for longer than half a minute (it was all her money, earned from attending events and taking over Madame Medusa's Boutique and Pawn Shop {_he didn't have any of his family wealth left, and she was not allowed to touch any of her "new money" and they both pretended that it wasn't like that in public_}).

They were invited to King Ben and Mal's wedding and were the envy of so many of the peasants there (they were envious of many in attendance as well {_perfect lives with pretty crowns and jewels they could afford and marriages to princes that had saved them_}).

And Penny danced with Ben, and Frederick with Mal (although he later claimed that he hadn't wanted to, that their new _queen_ had forced him to {_and the word was sour in her mouth. Mal wasn't good, had defeated no villain, but now she was a queen_}) and as she swooped through the hall on Ben's arm, glittering in the candlelight, she got a glimpse of what she _had_ been like, before Madame Medusa and the kidnapping. When she lived in the orphanage and was no one's _darling_.

Innocent.

Ben, though he was King, was one of the most innocent people she'd ever met, raised on the true values of Auradon (her child, sweet Peggy, was raised on the values of a broken home, even though she pretended she wasn't) and it showed. He was pure and honest with her, even though (and she knew this) she was seen as a gauche upstart with too many jewels and too few years for her husband.

She could see, in a way, how Mal had fallen for him. She still found the couple unlikely, but she could see the appeal on Mal's side- she might have to try harder to see Ben's.

So for Penny, it was a shock.

Some people claimed they saw it coming. That _obviously _the children from the Isle wanted no more than Ben's crown.

She thought they were wrong.

Mal had had plenty of opportunities to kill Ben, but she had waited. Perhaps, some of Ben's innocence had reflected on her, had made her softer (_or, _they whispered, _or she knew the laws. Or maybe she knew the Consummation Law_).

Penny and her family hid. They pawned off all their jewels on black markets (they never knew how many of them found their way to Mikhail) and stayed underground, waiting. Some of the greatest heroes were killed by the kids of villains, and still, they waited. They watched the broadcast of _Queen Evie_ killing her mother, and the Queen of Hearts losing her head.

They all looked to Penny.

She was, after all, the hero.

What they saw was a coward.

Penny wasn't the real hero of her story, it was her friends, the mice and the albatross. And they were framed on Mikhail Medusa's wall in the boutique (never sold, because they were beyond all value).

Penny died of starvation. Her son was sold into slavery and her daughter became a prostitute to keep her father alive (no one mentioned how Peggy was eventually accepted amongst the villains, how she turned traitor on what she was raised with {except she didn't, really, because she was raised with the values of a broken home}).

And those values taught her to _survive_.


	21. Vanity: Chapter 2

_Peter Pan_

Peter was guilty. He had grown up. Given Neverland to Auradon to use as a prison and gone on to live his life. Ignored the children on the Isle and left them in their parents' mess. So really, this whole invasion was his fault (or, at least, Helena Hook's anger was his fault {_the others never really had the time to consider Peter Pan, or else they were too drunk to remember the thought in the morning_})

So many lost children that he'd saved from broken homes (never mind the parents he'd driven mad {_Mr Darling had locked himself in a cage until his children returned_}). How had he not thought of the children of the Isle, asked them to join him?

He'd grown up.

Married a sweet, _Darling_ girl, had a kid (Pamela). Michael was the _new_ Peter Pan, and John had married Cubby (Patrick) and everyone was happy.

Or forgotten.

The lost boys were disbanded and they'd left Neverland behind and allowed the glamour and glory of Auradon to consume them all. Wendy wore dresses with corsets and emeralds and sapphires, and Michael wore chainmail made of the finest silver in all the worlds, carved by the dwarves and infused with magic. John wore suits and ties made of the finest silks and he himself had almost forgotten what it was like to wear colour, always in whites and greys.

He'd given up freedom for writing and reading and a new Neverland of parties and kings and queens (where were the days when he'd sworn to answer to no one).

When the children originally came over, as part of Prince Ben's proclamation, he was ecstatic (and slightly guilty, but no one ever mentioned guilt in Auradon {_they all had it, stowed away somewhere, regrets from their stories and the thought that they weren't really heroes._})

He helped teach Mal some of the wilder magicks, and he danced at the wedding with her, and the guilt evaporated (they'd fixed their mistake; _Ben had fixed their mistake_) when he saw what a beautiful woman she had become, smiling and chasing fairies all over the gardens with peasant children.

When Ben died, Peter regretted helping Mal. Those wilder magicks that he'd helped her tame were eventually what broke down the magickal barrier around the Isle, and then the children of the Isle of the Lost flew free. Havoc reigned.

In the back of his mind, Peter was proud of them. They'd _never_ lost sight of what they wanted, and if he'd _bothered to care_, they'd have made fine Lost Boys (Lost Children, now, really). And when he saw Helena Hook, daring and vivacious (nothing like quiet, run-of-the-mill Pamela that got Bs in her subjects and never came home late {_he'd tried so hard, but his daughter valued modesty over fun, and who taught her that, her mother, he'd think when he lay in bed, his arms wrapped around Wendy Pan_}).

_Forever a lost boy, _indeed. Michael was shot through the chest, but she never came after Peter. And at some point, after Wendy had stopped crying to sleep, and slapping him awake, and throwing dishes and then breaking down again, when she'd left with Pamela (and, _Oh God_, Peter couldn't say it, he wouldn't, and he shouldn't {but **good riddance**}) and John and Cubby were hiding, back in the old Neverland, where no one would think to look (except the bold Helena Hook…)

So yes, Peter Pan lost his mind, calling after John and Wendy and Michael and the twins, every now and then, but the rest of the time, he roamed free, frightening and mad (young again, immortal once more) and when he became dirty, and his shiny suits turned to rags (well, it was no wonder people mistook him {_whose child is that?_} for someone he wasn't and when Helena Hook found him, she didn't recognise him, and she'd been _trained_ to kill Peter Pan {_what did that say about him?_}).

(Sometimes, the called Peter Pan the angel of death. Sometimes, he was. Mostly, he was just _wild_).


	22. Vanity: Chapter 3

_The Jungle Book_

He was married two days before it happened. In Auradon, there were as many weddings as possible in the week of the Royal wedding. Queen Mal had actually officiated his marriage, smiling and winking at him when he stuttered through his vows. There was something about her _presence_, bright and yet also dark, secrets abounding, beautiful in the terror she inspired in the noblemen of Auradon.

Her hair was brown, for a change. The children from the Isle were renowned for their wild hair colours, and the fight between Mal and Belle over hair, gown, and flower colours had been gossiped about maids for the months leading up to the wedding.

It suited her, but it also didn't. She lost her magic touch, looked less like a fae and looked like a normal, human girl (no one _dared_ to mention how similar she and Audrey looked).

There was something about her, their new Queen, her willingness to associate with the people and her kindness and thoughtfulness, that made her more (well, not _human_, but real. She wasn't unachievable).

And Mowgli had always believed she'd come through, because, well _he had_ (he'd been savage, raised by panthers and bears and wolves, but Alia had taught him better, had taught him _right_). So he was _shocked_, honestly and truly, when Queen Mal had walked out of the palace bed chambers to the live broadcast and announced in a speech to last the ages, "'_Weaklings and cowards, hiding behind a barrier and your crowns and thrones, the lot of you! Fools to let children be raised on the Isle, morons who were more obsessed with jewellery and the image of good than the monsters brewing behind the magic walls of the Isle. Well, look at what you've done now! You've freed the demons from hell, and there will be no rescuer, no handsome prince, no hero at the end of this tale!' _He remembered her smile curling into a wicked run, as she whispered softly to the camera_, 'Run.'"_

Their new Kings and Queens and assorted Overlords didn't know of _mercy_ and _love_ and whatever else the children of Auradon were taught. They knew pain and fear and hatred, suffering and endless torment. They knew the magick that Auradon had retired, new ancient spells that they could (_finally_) perform.

The _new_ throne room was hideous, Mowgli knew from an inside source. Animal skins- _Bagheera and Baloo-_ hung on the walls, blood was always drying on the floor. The thrones were made of different materials- one thorn and velvet, a second an apple tree dripping with poison and held together by a ribbon, the third made from some rusted and aged metal with a lamp carved above the headrest, and the last steel and fur, made of 101 Dalmatians.

Alia had spent their honeymoon curled up in a sewer. She'd spent what was supposed to be the beginning of the rest of their lives dressed in rags, pawning off jewels that no one cared about for food with no taste.

Mowgli had spent their honeymoon fighting the instinct to join the ones running wild and free, to be back in the jungle where he belonged. He spent the beginning of the end of his life sneaking away from Alia to buy the plants he remembered from the jungle, the plant Baloo had taught him to crush up and set fire to in order to get the most _relaxing _feeling in the entire world.

On his last day, Mowgli couldn't have cared less. He didn't need a wife or family or good, he just needed the wonderful _bare necessities _that the children from the Isle had brought back with them- oh, did he owe them.

Red slaughtered him in cold blood, surgically added claws piercing his spine and dragging down, down, _down_, making Mowgli scream and cry like a wounded animal (because that was all he was) and laughing, howling with joy when he saw the stash Mowgli kept hidden.

_There will be no heroes left_, High Queen Mal's speech echoed in the silent catacombs of the sewers Mowgli died in, _no one will save you from what you deserve._

_Run_.


	23. Vanity: Chapter 4

_The Hunchback of Notre Dame_

Quasimodo was already a monster, so the fall of Auradon was, essentially, good for him. He was finally, finally, accepted. He'd thought that after his _hero days_ he'd finally be one of the good guys, but no, no, no, no, a _monster_ cannot walk amongst man. Esmeralda was good, and so was Phoebus, but anyone who has spent a lifetime poor can easily be distracted by the extravagant lifestyle of the rich.

Even friends.

_Dies irae, dies illa _

Quasimodo had known what was coming the second the villain's children had stepped foot in Auradon. No one forgets hurts suffered, and no one forgets whose hands they suffered at. Mal, their cunning, wicked queen, had led all the heroes astray, but not the outcasts. Them, she'd rallied to her cause, along with beautiful, kind, intelligent Queen Evie who'd baked them breads and fed them and sheltered them in the dead of night.

_Solvet saeclum in favilla_

King Carlos knew what it was to be treated like a monster, and sometimes they dined together (when King Carlos wanted to get high and put his skills in skinning to the test). And King Jay, well, he knew what it was to be forced into thievery, labelled an outcast because of forces outside your will, and he revelled with them when Mal brought the barrier down.

_Quando Judex est venturus_

Quasimodo was the first hero to turn because it's really so _easy_ to leave friends behind when there's nothing left to live for. He'd killed his _Master_ Frollo without a second thought, and laughed in the blood of his prison warden, finally sinking into the monster everyone had thought he was for so long.

_Confutatis maledictis_

The Hunchback of Notre Dame was _free_.

_Flammis acribus addictis _

Quasimodo ran the _new _Feast of Fools, the new generation of villains laughing and shrieking at the heroes that _he_ taught to _love _to suffer. He wrecked them the way he was once tortured by the good guys, the heroes. And _wow_. No one was as twisted, as _topsy turvy_ as the Hunchback of Notre Dame, as the monster that lived in the bell towers as a king.

_Voca me cum benedictis _

Esmeralda lay crying in a cell, and there were days when all the Hunchback did was laugh at her. He howled and cackled at the starving gypsy on the floor, made her dance for food and a bed and forgiveness (it would _never_ be given).

_Confutatis maledictis _

He had hated the upstart Phoebus when he'd first met him, and loathed him even more when he'd stolen darling, _pretty _Esmeralda away from him. And now, now Phoebus would pay. He lay on the floor of the chamber of the Feast of Fools, that grandest so far, with the High Queen and Queen Evie in attendance, lay sobbing and choking on his own blood and spit and vomit, and the monster of the bell tower counted his ribs as he plucked them out from his body.

(_The Hunchback was more than willing to mock the devil and shock the priest_).


	24. Vanity: Chapter 5

_Hercules_

Hercules the great. Hercules the son of Zeus. Hercules the strong. Hercules the demigod. Hercules the brave.

Hercules the mistrustful. Hercules the abusive. Hercules the fake. Hercules the sellout. Hercules the brand.

They weren't really different. They were liars, performers, show horses, both of them. Except that Hercules the good had turned down godhood, and Hercules the brand had been given it, free of charge, a two-for-one package deal. Hercules, the god of Strength and Power. Megara, goddess of Disloyalty and Lies. They were quite the power couple. Strength and lies, power and disloyalty. They were _terrifying_.

Megara was beautiful and very, very pregnant when Mal took over. So, she hid on Olympus while the gods _tried_ to fight, and when Hayley trashed the sun chariot, she stayed only in the lit passages of Olympus, and when Aphrodite came back with her face ripped off, she shrieked and cowered and hid in the corners of their [her] house while Hercules got drunk and tore down buildings and threw glass bottles.

When Hayley found them (and she did, of course. She was going down a _very_ specific checklist of the ones who had said _yes_ and cast her down to the Isle {Mummy and Daddy were _first_}) she tore into Hercules _slowly_, savouring the crunch of bones and the eternal pain that she _loved _to dole out. And when he lay, slowly bleeding out on their floor, surrounded by broken beer bottles, she turned to Meg. Nine months in and about to give birth at any minute. She _slowly _cut the baby out, and gasped in shock when it took a breath.

She left the mother and father to die.

And she raised the beautiful baby boy, Kronos, and she named him after his grandfather because he was a titan, greater than _any _god. And he grew up on the screams of the damned, learned torture on the prone body of Maleficent, and god, he was _great_. He learnt his letters from the deamons of hell, and his wild magicks from Queen Evie's Academy for the Wicked and the Damned. He learnt exactly where you could pierce a man's neck that he would be in agony, but not die, and where a woman would _scream from the pain_ when you touched her.

He was gorgeous and perfect, and if his mother cared for him a _little_ more than she should? Well, she was a villain, and she was meant to be great and terrifying, not sweet and loving. She had stolen him out of a goddess's body, she could love him however she would wish to, in any way or form.

Hayley raised a hero's son to be a great king, and a great villain and even when he betrayed her, generations to come would echo her name in toasts at banquets.

{_She was, after all, a goddess._}


	25. Vanity: Chapter 6

_Tangled_

After their wedding (and oh, what a sight it was. White was strewn across the city, and Eugene was so _handsome_ in his royal colours {and no one ever spoke about the death of her aunt and uncle while they were on their way to a wedding}), she and Eugene retired from adventuring to Auradon, which made her just so happy, because Auradon was so bright and so pretty, and there were support groups for people like her {_although they didn't have magic tears_} and she met Cousin Elsa, whom she got along with _splendidly_ (that can happen when two girls are isolated all their lives).

They had Spring Fitzherbert in the season she was named after. Rapunzel had seen her baby daughter only once and had immediately known that they would be the happiest family in the United States of Auradon. Spring had her mother's hair and her father's eyes and penchant for mischief and was the same age as Cinderella's little girl, Carla. The two were fast friends. By the time they were 12, they had been at the other's house just as often as they'd been at their own. By the time they were 14 and ready to start school, Rapunzel could tell that they were in love. She'd never been happier for her baby girl. Cinderella was not quite so anxious for a relationship between the two girls. She'd been raised in a conservative home, so to speak.

Eugene was caught the year the VKs came to Auradon. He'd been stealing trinkets for her in all their time together, but this time he'd bitten off more than he could chew. The Faerie Godmother's wand. Rapunzel cried that night. She'd _loved_ him so much, yet he'd betrayed her trust. Spring had crawled into bed with her and they'd spent all night cuddling, hoping that it was a dream.

It wasn't.

Spring came home crying on the final night of the wedding, and Rapunzel stared, shocked. When Spring screamed that she never wanted to see Carla Charming again, Rapunzel sat on the other side of the door and cried for her girl. When Spring came out again, stumbling over her feet, drunk, Rapunzel let her go. When Rapunzel heard Queen Mal's broadcast, she froze.

An idea came unbidden.

'_Fuck Carla Charming and her fucking perfect boyfriend. Fuck her for leading me on. Fuck you for telling me that she loved me, mom. Fuck that bitch.'_

Well, good girls may go to heaven, but wicked girls go everywhere else.

Carla Charming had a pretty boyfriend and a lovely best friend, and a mama who didn't approve of homosexuality and a daddy who wanted heirs. She had a selfish brother who would one day rule next to Audrey, so she would get Charmington.

Keyword: _had_.

Carla Charming died on what would come to be called the Day of Reckoning, where every selfish Auradonian went to hell and every guilty hero went mad. She died at 12:15 at the hand of a prodigy. She died at 12:15 at the hands of a queen. She died at 12:15 at the hands of Rapunzel {she deserved it}.

Rapunzel found Spring passed out behind the Ugly Duckling, drunk as a sailor and naked as the day she was born. Rapunzel smuggled them into the forest. A few weeks later, all Auradonian prisoners were released, and Eugene disappeared. Flynn reappeared in the campsite with Spring the next day. The three of them managed for three years on three meals a week {_three is an auspicious number_} until they heard of Rapunzel's step-sister, Miranda Gothel, locked up in the palace. They made a valiant effort to retrieve the poor, darling girl, but they were caught by a man who was once recognisable as Chad Charming.

King Carlos kept them, as some sort strange pets, as freaks that Miranda Gothel loved because she was sweet and kind and really- she'd been raised under the impression that Rapunzel was an animal.


	26. Vanity: Chapter 7

_Frozen_

Elsa was looking the same as she had when she was twenty-one, and still ruling the kingdom. Anna and Kristoff were recently married and had just had their first child, a boy (as far back as they could trace, Kristoff's line were blessed by Frigga, always having a male firstborn). He was the successor to Arendelle's throne and were just about ready to move out of the castle when it happened. Elsa couldn't say she hadn't expected it, in any way. She, Kristoff and Anna had been guests at the wedding, and while the ceremony was touching, there was an air of impatience to Mal. Of anticipation. And Evie was being uncharacteristically sombre next to her, a wicked little grin curling up the corners of her mouth.

Elsa knew that look. She'd _worn_ that look. That was the look of a girl who was finally getting what she wanted after far too many years. It was the look of a princess who was about to become a queen.

The reception was beautiful, a whirl of dancing and laughing and champagne, and she'd expected the newly-weds to be so enamoured with each other that they'd hardly partake in the revelries, but that was not the case. Both spent as much time with their guests as they did with their spouse.

She'd ended up sitting on a couch in the palace next to Mal on the second evening. Mal slipped her heels off and curled her stockinged feet in underneath her, both hands wrapped around a goblet of what Elsa recognised as mulled wine. Neither exchanged words, but there was an air of regret around Mal. Or maybe not regret, but melancholy. And when the Queen stood up to leave, she pressed a coin into Elsa's palm. A piece of bronze, engraved with a dragon.

It saved her life.

Anna had already been taken by that coward Hans, and his son was about to kill her, she knew. There was a thirst for revenge in his eyes, and she regretted the moment she'd allowed the Auradonian king and queen to relocate Hans to the Isle.

She raised her hand to protect herself, the same way Anna had when she'd sacrificed herself all those years ago when the coin she'd tied into a bracelet flashed in the light. It stopped the boy (for he was a boy, surely no older than seventeen) dead. He grabbed her wrist and pulled back her sleeve. His eyes widened in recognition of something.

He stepped back and stared at her calculatingly. He knew elemental magicks were rare, but he'd thought that Queen Mal would have let him have this one. Apparently not.

A new idea began to form. Women with magicks were not only rare and powerful but also coveted. And his father had drilled into him- the line from which Elsa came from was blessed, likely by Amara or Sif. Bad fortune would follow you, should you kill one of the chosen families. He'd thought it was worth the risk. But now he had a new plan.

They were married a week later. Queen Evie officiated for them. Queen Elsa had been surprisingly accommodating over this new plan. He'd rule but through her. She'd maintain all her authority, her status. And she'd be allowed to see her sister. And she'd be alive. When Hayden's father learnt of his new plan, he clapped him on the back and laughed. Said he was impressed. The two had always had a better relationship than most parents and children on the Isle.

Then something changed.

Hayden found that he was coming to like Elsa- she was wicked smart and beautiful, and strong, but also submissive to him and at least polite. He started buying her ornate gifts. Diamond jewellery boxes, dresses of silk and velvet that trailed after her. Her own bed, framed photos of her and Anna, gold rings and sapphire earrings. Lingerie designed and made by Queen Evie. He had the coin that saved her life set into her crown. And he found that Elsa responded. She smiled more around him, and made conversation with him and slept in the same bed voluntarily, but she also let her more manipulative side out, took advantage of her workers, ordered her servers like the _slaves _they were, instead of saying _please _and _thank you_ like a good girl.

The next time his father allowed Anna to come and visit, the once-princess of Arendelle stood shocked. Her sister, who had already been far too calm with her forced marriage to a villain, was laughing with her husband in the drawing room. She wore the most beautiful evening gown- backless and black silk, with detailing of real gold. Her crown rested daintily on top of her styled hair. When she caught sight of Anna, she rose far too gracefully and walked over. She gently embraced her sister and kissed her on each cheek. She smiled conspiratorially and announced to her husband that she and Anna would be retiring to the parlour. Hayden waved her off good-naturedly.

When Elsa told her sister of falling for the pretty boy who'd bought her gifts and spared her life, Anna stared, betrayed. When she whispered that she was pregnant and that she was going to keep it, Anna flinched. When she asked conversationally how things were going with Hans, Anna broke. How dare this- this stranger ask how things were going when she should be trying to find her brother-in-law? How dare she get a husband who loved her even though he was evil? How dare she be spoiled rotten and treated like a fucking goddess while Anna was arm candy for a bitter and cruel man?

Anna left jealous. And stayed so. Even her own husband liked Elsa- how was that possible? Elsa was the reason that he wasn't the king of Arendelle right now.

No one had ever thought to check Elsa when she hit Anna in the heart. Because, while she was not hit by ice, living with it in her for so long changed her. She could still care, true, but only if she respected someone, if she knew them, if she liked them.

Anna ticked one of those boxes.

Hayden ticked all three.

Queen Elsa was stunning and intelligent and influential {was it really a shock that the Villains liked her?}


	27. Vanity: Chapter 8

_The Little Mermaid_

Aaron had gone missing when he was just a baby. Melody had cried for a week and Eric had thrown himself into work and diplomacy, but Ariel was by far the worst. She shut down completely, not eating unless food was placed in front of her, her eyes were unfocused, and she drifted through the weeks, never getting dressed, just sitting and staring blankly.

Then something changed.

She started trying. She helped out at Auradon prep, attended every single one of Melody's Parent Support Group meetings, joined a marine life support non-profit organisation, started organising charity balls, attended teas with various queens {_Snow White, Cinderella, Briar Rose, and Bell_e}, started advising Eric on his decisions, and made decisions on Auradon's panel. No one understood the change.

Read the fine text.

_Should one Ariel of Atlantica, daughter of King Triton and Queen Athena, manage to retrieve her voice within the allotted time, her firstborn son will be forfeit to Ursula Praestrigia on pain of her soul._

Ariel put Aaron out of her mind. She had two more children, Eric Jr. and Alexandra. She rarely (if ever) remembered her fourth child, residing on the Isle.

Oh, what a mistake.

At their tea parties, the Queens would spill their darkest secrets. Stories they feared to tell others for fear of being judged. Belle would speak of Gaston, of her regrets, of the life in France she missed, of how, sometimes, she feared her husband {_that's what you signed up for when you married a beast_}. Cinderella would whisper that her step-sisters weren't really ugly, that they were innocent in this mess, that she was scared her son was turning into a brat and that her daughter was homosexual {_you married someone you met at a ball to find him a wife. Did you really think that he loved you? _}.

Snow White told them the story of marrying her prince just a day after she'd met him, of trying (and failing) to keep her world-renowned beauty, of distancing herself from the seven dwarves {_you knew you'd have to. A princess doesn't associate with half breeds_}. Ariel told them where Aaron had gone, how she and Sebastian and Flounder were no longer on speaking terms, how Melody never came out of her room, blasting the saddest songs she could find and weeping over the only picture of Aaron they had, how she hadn't even seen her sisters in years {_you wanted to be human. You signed that contract. This is what you deserve_}.

And Briar Rose told them the worst stories of all. Told them how delusional her father had been when she died, terrified of every shadow, waiting for Maleficent, how Fauna, Flora and Merryweather had forgotten what it was to be a faerie, how Maleficent _hadn't even killed her _and had a daughter now. How that daughter was Audrey's sister. How her mother had no clue and thought that she and Phillip were happy together {_you're the one who married a man who kissed a woman who'd been asleep for a thousand years. Did you expect him to be satisfied with you? Phillip always longed for danger_}.

When Queen Mal took over, Ariel was terrified. He'd find out, she knew he would. He probably already knew. He was coming for her.

He wasn't.

Aaron was long dead. Uriah had been dead for a shorter while, but nonetheless. Eric died at the hands of Felicia, a long-over-due favour to Ursula. Ariel died by order of High King Jay. Melody had known of her mother's betrayal for a long time, and there was nothing His Royal Highness hated more than someone who would betray their family.

Melody died at the same time as her mother.

Alexandra and Eric remained in hiding for the rest of their lives. That wasn't a very long time. They were found by Helena Hook, who mistook them for lost children.

That family was the epitome of an Auradonian family.

{_It was no wonder they all died_}.


	28. Vanity: Chapter 9

_101 Dalmatians_

Carlos had known _of_ Anita _long_ before he met her. Her sketches of coats and handbags and fur-lined boots were the only decorations on the peeling walls of Hell Hall. _Her sense of fashion was unparallelled_ Cruella would lament. So beautiful. So original. So much potential.

But he hadn't known Anita. He hadn't known that she'd had a daughter with Rodger, Lucille. He hadn't known that she'd kept all the puppies, now grown into strong dogs. He hadn't known that she had a nice house in the suburbs, hadn't known that she tried to win custody of Cruella's son from her before she was sent to the Isle. So much he'd never been told.

Anita had known of Carlos long before she met him. She'd known that Cruella would treat him _awfully_, heard of some of his more terrifying exploits with his friends {_those that were allowed to guide the barges to the Isle came back with wide eyes and horror stories of four children, dressed in stitched-together rags, with bleeding fingers and visible bones, blood red lips, and eyes that hid magick. They had names. The Thief. The Troublemaker. The Witch. The Wh*re_}. She'd heard of his prowess in killing, and his spreading of disease.

But she hadn't really known him. She hadn't heard of his abilities with technology, of his grades in school being so good that he'd been moved up a year, of his loyalty to his friends {_lovers_}, of his effective discipline of anyone who disobeyed the laws of the Isle.

Lucille always dressed up as Cruella de Vil for Halloween. Carlos always dressed in rituals for All Hallow's Eve. Lucille was pretty good with animals. Carlos was pretty good at killing them. Lucille's mother taught her to bake and sew. Carlos's mother taught him to dodge blows and think himself above everyone else. Lucille got her sense of style from her mother. Evie taught Carlos how to create masterpiece ensembles. Lucille bought her first roll of fabric with pocket money from her mother. Carlos killed and skinned for his with help from Jay. When Lucille pricked herself with a needle for the first time, her mother kissed it better and stuck on a plaster. When Carlos first pricked himself, his mother made him wash the blood out of the fur for three days without food or sleep.

Lucille had her first kiss at sixteen with her best friend, Anthony Davis. Carlos lost his virginity at twelve because his mother traded it for a properly-sewn coat of fox fur. And he loved Evie well enough, and she made him feel so amazingly _brilliant_, but he would've liked to make the choice. He'd have also liked it if his first time hadn't cried into his shoulder for hours afterwards that they wouldn't be _pure_ for their prince.

He got used to it after that, though. And sometimes Evie invited Jay, so she could "learn better" and sometimes she invited Mal because she needed to see a technique applied {_Mal had been sleeping around for money since she hit puberty_}.

Lucille fell in love for the first time at eighteen. Carlos never knew love, only pleasure and family and his basest instinct. His connection with _MalEvieJay _was stronger than love, stronger than any temptation anyone could bear.

Lucille went to school in Auradon for the first time and came back home with a gold star in her forehead. Carlos went to school in Auradon for the first time and got glared at by the descendants of heroes.

Lucille got married at twenty, the day before the Day of Reckoning. She married a nice boy who wasn't a descendant of anyone important {_he was Mrs Potts grandchild, but that was all_}. Carlos got married at twenty, the day after the Day of Reckoning, to _MalEvieJay_, and their wedding was broadcasted to everyone, and all the descendants of villains cheered because they'd been waiting on that day for years.

Anita knew all of these things. Carlos had told her over tea while discussing their deal. Life for Anita and her family, 101 dalmatians Carlos.

Anita knew the deal would fall through. Chad Charming whispered to her as he escorted her out- Carlos would kill her. He'd wanted revenge all his life, and he wouldn't give it up for 101 dogs. Anita accepted it and left.

Anita knew she and her family would die. High Queen Mal the Powerful cackled it into her ear as she tied Anita to the pyre. Anita made peace and was confident in the knowledge she knew what was coming.

Anita did not know that she would not be tortured in hell. Rodger was, for mocking the de Vil line. Lucille was, for having the life that King Carlos the Deceitful deserved but was denied. But Anita had fought for Carlos, had fought for the VKs, and it paid off.

{Anita didn't know everything, but she knew enough}.


	29. Vanity: Chapter 10

_Cinderella_

Ella Tremaine was like Madonna. She had one name that everyone knew. Darling little Cinderella. _She could still remember her stepsisters screeching with laughter. Cinder wench. Dirty Ella. Cinderella! _She had the last laugh, though. She was now a queen, and Drizella and Anastasia were nothing. Lady Tremaine was dead.

When Chad was born, Ella Charming was ecstatic. Her family was becoming whole {Chad would never meet his aunts}. And Chad grew up and their family was happy and then Carla came along and she couldn't be more grateful. And Carla had a best, _best_ friend in Spring Fitzherbert, and everyone was happy. Life was good. Ella Tremaine had her happy ending.

But then.

Carla got so friendly, so close, with Spring, and Madame Tremaine had always said that it was wrong {_nevermind that Madame Tremaine had been executed for tampering with the Faerie Godmother's wand_}. And she knew there was something strange about her girl, and her Prince Charming insisted they beat it out of her, and that worked, to some extent. Carla hooked up with some city boy and all was good {if Ella was so scared of her _daughter's _abnormal relationship choices, what would she think of her step-niece and nephew?}.

Carla died on the Day of Reckoning. The family had all of five minutes to mourn before they were carted away. To the feet of the new _kings _and _queens_. And when the four of them declared that Chad had immunity from the other VKs, _Cinderella_ cried. When they dressed him like a serving boy and locked the shackles around his wrists, she mourned for her child. When they took him away to serve the Kings and Queens, she went silent.

Days later {she didn't know how many. The cell was dark and she was _hungry_ and her Prince was silent and the Faerie Godmother was near catatonic} she was dragged by bound wrists onto a hastily-constructed stage. And High Queen Mal stood above her and grinned down at her. The Angelic Queen giggled at the scene from her throne, and the kings stood stoically to the side, talking to a darkly handsome couple like you'd see in a movie where the bad guys won. The woman had perfectly coiffed dark hair, with red lips and nails, pale skin and perfectly done makeup. Familiar diamonds rested around her throat and she was draped in silk. The man had defined cheekbones, and perfectly brushed dark hair. He wore a dark suit. They each had a ring on their left hand, Cinderella noted. The same ring. She vaguely heard Queen Mal's tirade, so focused was she on these familiar characters. And as the woman approached, it clicked. The Tremaine family crest. And she saw the resemblance, as she looked closer. The woman had Anastasia's eyes and her slight build. The man had Drizella's smirk and cheekbones. Her niece and nephew.

The two of them approached the Faerie Godmother with smiles on their lips and hatred in their eyes. The woman bent _so _gracefully and whispered into the fae's ear.

"_Beg."_

And oh, she did. The Faerie Godmother said she was _sorry_, said she _didn't know_, said she _tried_. And the beautiful woman laughed, and rolled her eyes, and kicked the snivelling fae creature. Then she turned, and her eyes lightened upon meeting Cinderella's. And she crossed over to Cindy.

"Do you know who I am?"

Cinderella and her prince and her Faerie Godmother were burnt alive, set alight, and died clawing at their skin and gasping for oxygen in smoke. They died while _charming_ Chad was forced to watch them, stiff as a board, as his darling cousin sitting on his lap and kissing up his neck, whispering _despicable_ things into his ear, leaving lipstick prints on his cheek, keeping both his hands bound in one of hers {one of the tricks she learnt on the _Isle_}. Her one true lover stood to the side, an amused smile on his face as he watched his fianceé's actions, and didn't regret this moment. Astoria deserved everything she wanted.

Cinderella deserved everything she got.

{_You married someone you met at a ball to find him a wife. Did you really think that he loved you?_}


	30. Vanity: Chapter 11

_Pocahontas_

But can you paint with all the colours of society?

She hadn't been a savage. She was kind and open-hearted and honest and _natural_. Not savage. Not in America. Not until she moved to Auradon.

John Smith had loved her, he'd just loved the world more. She'd been like that, once. Desperate to explore the world, to be granted the new opportunities Mother Willow had told her she'd get {_in time, child, if you are pure of heart, you will go everywhere_}. But when she went to London, something changed. John Rolfe wanted her to go home, wanted to live with her and understand her way of life. And she started to want that too. She didn't want new things if new things were powder on her face and a corset clutching her lungs. She wanted freedom and experiences, but also safety to be herself John Rolfe promised her that.

They married soon after they returned to her people's lands, and life was good. Soon, there were three descendants of chief Powhatan running around. Missy, Elliott, and John Jr. She found the foreign names fascinating, allowing John to name all of her children strange names with odd meanings. _Bee. The Lord my God. The Lord is gracious._

And when he _nicely, he was asking her, but there was an undercurrent, a suggestion in his voice that if she said no there'd be trouble_ told her that Queen Belle and King Beast had invited them to live in _Auradon_, a country for the heroes, they moved with their children, and lived in Auradon. And yes, Pocahontas was now back to wearing powder on her face and a corset around her hips, but she was doing it with the man she (married) loved. And her children had a first-class education, they weren't savages, and she was real and a _princess_ and her life was good.

When King's Ben proclamation rang out, she was happy that her values were being instilled in society (no one is a savage, everyone can be saved {_were those really still __**her**_ _values?_}). And then Mal and Evie came over, and they completely ignored Missy, and the Isle boys treated John and Elliott like dirt. But they were so pretty, and when Mal wore an _Evie-made gown_, Pocahontas knew that they could be saved, that they weren't savages.

Too bad she was wrong.

Mal walked out with a smile on her face and blood on her hands. She walked out with a head in her hands and a king at her feet. She walked out as a savage, but she walked out victorious.

Gianna Ratcliffe had _so. Much. Fun. _Killing that redskin bitch Pocahontas who thought that she was fit to be part of society. And she tortured that bitch until she screamed for death, but Gianna gave her one better. She gave her her _true love_ to deliver the final blow.

And the last thing Pocahontas saw before she died was John Smith with a dagger raised in his hands.


	31. Vanity: Chapter 12

_Mulan_

Once, she was honoured in front of all of China. She was bowed before and held a hero above the rest of the population. She was strong. She'd proved that women didn't have to be married off, weren't only good for marriage.

She assumed that her ridiculous wedding would be called off.

She was wrong.

Oh, she married Shang, her prince (of sorts) and that was better than marrying some man who didn't care for her opinions or her ideas, but even Shang had ideas on what was expected of a wife, and they weren't the same as his expectations of a soldier.

_Be more ladylike._

So she was. She loved Shang and wanted to please him. She learnt to cook and clean. She taught herself to use a fan and dress well and speak politely. And while she still practised her martial arts with a broom in the courtyard when Shang rode out with his soldiers, she became a wife.

And slowly a princess.

And a mother.

All of China had been left to her upon the Emperor's death, but god forbid a woman raise a child and govern a country, so the advisors left her in her chambers so long as she put her seal on their declarations.

So, when they were invited to join Auradon, her advisors tried to fight. But she stood strong, the Mulan she once was, and joined the United States of Auradon. And China became a vassal state of Auradon. There would have been riots, but Auradon got rid of even the pettiest of criminals, and everyone had food, and life was good. Who cared if Auradon could send them to war? Auradonians were the good guys. They wouldn't go to war.

Then she fell again. Lonnie went to Auradon Prep, and they were such a simple group of people, and life was so much easier when she just listened to the princesses.

And yeah, Lonnie wasn't ever going to get a prince. So what? That's what Mulan had been fighting in the first place. Needing to marry a prince and have two kids. And they had Sheng, who was definitely interested in Spring Fitzherbert, so life was good.

Until it wasn't.

Lei was the thunder of the Huns, and she was born to kill Mulan. So when the Day of Reckoning came, the Queen of the Huns stormed Mulan's pretty little house. And Mulan tried to fight, she did, and Lonnie ran, but eventually, Shang and Mulan and Sheng lay at Lei's feet, and she was victorious. She was the Queen of the Huns, and Mulan was _nothing_.

And she stood on the balcony where Mulan had once been saluted, and smiled.


	32. Vanity: Chapter 13

_The Princess and the Frog_

Tiana's _(est. 2000) _was beautiful. It was going strong. People came from all over to New Orleans to eat at the princess's restaurant. It shone like a beacon during Mardi Gras and attracted the attention of anyone who had a _dream._

And the jazz-playing crocodile and Prince Naveen duo weren't exactly something to miss.

Then Hurricane Katrina hit.

There were screams and tears and Tiana couldn't remember for the life of her which way was _up_.

Eventually, she was picked up by the helicopter Prince Naveen sent to help the New Orleans citizens. They tried to cart her away to a temporary living facility for those affected by Katrina. She said no. She built herself up from nothing, but now, she was not going back. Where was Naveen?

Four days later, of hunger and sleeping on her roof and her mom just saying '_Please, baby'_, Prince Naveen sent his own chopper to pick her up. Finally. And she was escorted to Auradon, where Queen Belle received her with grace and respect like she deserved, and smiled and gave her a new dress and a bath. Talked about how she and Naveen were welcome to stay, that the United States of Auradon would love to have their nation, would keep them safe. How they would never have to worry about voodoo men ever again. How Tiana could cater to royal balls.

Tiana accepted.

And sure, Prince Naveen wasn't exactly happy when he found out, but he got over it. And Dr Facilier was delivered straight to the Isle of the Lost.

Life was _good_.

Tiana was catering when it happened. Well, when the wedding happened. She was cleaning up when Mal walked out of her chamber, blood staining her breasts and the sheets she carried around her and her nails jagged and her lips bright red. She watched on a tiny screen as Evie and Jay and Carlos walked out, dressed in leather and victory. She watched as Mal grew four thrones out of the dirt, and she watched as the new _kings _and _queens_ took their place looking like they belonged there.

She died the moment they tore down that barrier.

Felicia's magic acted on intent, and she had intended to kill Tiana for years (since she'd broken every bone in her body trying to reach _the other side_). Trying to escape.

Tiana died and Felicia would never regret it.

Not as long as she would live.


	33. Vanity: Chapter 14

_Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs_

_Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?_

Pretty Snow White. Innocent Snow White. Kind Snow White. Fourteen-year-old Snow White who married her twenty-year-old Prince after their first kiss. A Heimlich Maneuver would have worked just as well as a kiss.

But here she was, Snow White, Queen of two kingdoms and mother of four. Because, of course, what was she good for other than having children and looking pretty?

Harry and Charles and Delilah and Sarah were little _nightmares_, but Snow believed in the best in everyone and didn't ever want to punish her children. The four White siblings (her name carried the power) were raised in a large family, with nine uncles and nine aunts (although they only knew of seven uncles and seven aunts) and were always picking on their half breed cousins.

Sarah married Doug on the second day of weddings. And then Queen Evie took her throne and summoned every White and dwarf to the palace. No one refused, and Queen Evie the Angelic made them watch as she strapped Snow to her seat and wrenched open her throat and poured down poisons until her mouth was bleeding and she was burning from the inside out.

And she looked to Doug and offered him a truce. He and his family could live on the Isle, be free from harm. It was only _Snow_ that had sent her off to the Isle.

All he had to do was prove his loyalty.

And so he knelt, and High Queen Mal the Powerful took great pleasure in locking a collar around his neck like a common _dog_ and blindfolding him and leading him to the space between the Angelic Queen's white thighs.

And in front of his cousins and his father and his new wife, he _worshipped_ Queen Evie as he had so long ago, and he could almost feel that she was just his Evie and it was just another night that she got home late from Jay and Carlos's place, except the skirt that she hastily pushed to the side was adorned with real diamonds and rubies, and his hands were behind his back in handcuffs, and this queen in front of him was holding his head into herself, cutting off his air supply.

And in front of his cousins and his father and his new wife, he brought the new Queen to her gasping orgasm and sat back, expecting to be de-collared and sent back to his family.

Instead, he was met with a heel made of diamonds kicking him to the floor.

He was met with the execution of his family and his new wife.

He was met with a golden collar and naked nights tied to a bar in the corner of the Angelic Queen's room, even though she laughed with her lovers in a far away room of their castle.

He was met with the life of a thrall.

Eventually, Doug began to love his mistress and his queen, to see how lucky he was to be in his position, to appreciate and adore every curve and line of the beautiful goddess' body.


	34. Vanity: Chapter 15

_Alice in Wonderland_

When Alice woke up, back in the normal world, with her sister and the daisy chains and words saying she'd been napping in the sun, she'd assumed they were true. After all, how could a place as _mad_ and dangerous as wonderland possibly exist?

_And little Alice fell_

_d_

_o_

_w_

_n_

_the hOle_

_bumped her head_

_and bruised her soul_

But then she started seeing white rabbits where there were none and looking for morals in every sentence that came about. Jam tarts and tea time sent her into _shock_. And well, "Alice just isn't who she was anymore."

Now, how _ridiculous _that was. No one was ever the same person twice. The one who woke up in your bed and the one who came back to it were two entirely different people. _Honestly_.

And Alice fell further and further into Wonderland even when she knew she was in England.

_Down, down, down, and there was nothing else to do, so Alice began talking again._

Genteel English-men and -women do not take kindly to _visions_ of white rabbits and blue caterpillars and roses painted red. And so before long, Alice found herself in a room with white walls and a white cotton dress that buttoned up at the back.

And every now and then a sister would visit, but she would leave soon after because the curtseying and "Duchess" or "Your Highness" and the incoherent babbling about tarts was too much for any respectable British woman to handle. And then.

Well, then, Alice (not _the _Alice, because another girl had been born, with stringy hair that was both black and blonde and lips that _loved _the taste of blood) started singing.

_Hickory Dickory dock,_

_Mankind is on the clock,_

_I greatly fear,_

_The end is near,_

_Hickory Dickory dock._

And _would you look at that_, she was right. Little baby Alice just knew things, like a canary in a mineshaft. And the Descendants destroyed England because Auradon was all well and good, but the rest of them also needed space. And yeah, Alice (the Alice) was technically Queen of Wonderland, no matter what the White Queen said, even though she had no idea, so of course, the cards needed to bring her back to their _new_ Queen, who had brought them out of the Underland.

And Alice lost her head just after the Queen of Hearts because Alice (not _the _Alice) knew what would make her mamma suffer, and that was never seeing Alice (the Alice) dead at her feet.


	35. Vanity: Chapter 16

_Aladdin_

Jasmine and Aladdin had actually not seen a reason to join the United States of Auradon when King Adam and Queen Belle had first created it. Agrabah was safe. There was no Jafar. Everyone was safe and whole and their nation was doing well. Then the Taliban and Bin Laden happened.

America sent its best into Agrabah, believing that Aladdin had some alliance with the extremists. He didn't. But they took him anyway because Genie was strong, but not even he could defeat tens of thousands of men with one goal: 'Prince Ali'.

{No one had heard of him before, and now he was helping rule Agrabah?}

Jasmine fled to the safety of Auradon, and couldn't find it in her heart to regret it. The King and Queen of Auradon _believed _her. They knew the pain of magic and suffering. And they told her that Agrabah would be safe- not only from the Taliban and the USA but also Jafar- if they joined. Jasmine had made them swear to retrieve Aladdin first. And then she said _yes_.

She didn't regret that decision. Her father never would have made it, and so that made it all the sweeter. Now they were protected by the magical armies of Auradon. And it was wonderful. Tea parties and royal meetings daily. Everyone had enough, even in Agrabah. Aladdin, who had spent so long living on the streets, made sure of that.

Eventually, she and Aladdin had twins- Alya and Cassim, for her mother and his father- and each of them was given one of Rajah's cubs for their fifth birthday. And everything was _wonderful_.

Then the proclamation happened. And Jay came over, and she worried so, because he was going to the same school as Cassim and Alya, and what would happen if he found them? She spent days sitting with a cup of sahlab, worrying for her children. And then, one day, Cassim wrote a letter home saying that Jay was on his tourney team, and he'd helped them score the winning goal against the opposing team in the last match of the year. Of how he was like a _brother_ to the team, even the prince! And Jasmine could relax.

Until she couldn't.

Oh, no one would have expected it. The wedding was beautiful and honest and the vows were so beautiful, and when she spoke to Jay afterwards, he said he understood that what his father had done was wrong, that he forgave them for leaving him on the Isle. And she believed him. Invited him to visit, if he ever wanted to speak to Aladdin. She was so happy.

And then.

She watched him take his throne, smiling and strong. She watched him wink at the camera and kiss Queen Mal and King Carlos and Queen evie like there was no tomorrow. And she knew he'd come for them.

He never did.

Instead, they received a missive in flowing handwriting and red ink that requested the family's presence at the palace.

Jasmine ran.

She ran back into the deserts Aladdin had just barely survived, and she died of dehydration.

When Aladdin saw the letter, he killed himself. He knew what was coming, and thought he may as well get it over with.

And so it was only Alya and Cassim who braved the Blood Palace. And only Alya who left. Jay had killed Cassim {so easily, too easily. How many lives had he taken?} and left Alya to rule over Agrabah in his stead, for he couldn't leave his lovers or Blood Palace.

And so Aladdin's daughter led Agrabah in a way that her father would've hated and Jafar would have applauded. After all, all she wanted to do anymore was _survive_.


	36. Vanity: Chapter 17

_Toy Story_

Being left with Bonnie Anderson wasn't the worst thing in the world. It was true- she was no Andy. The toys attended more tea parties than rodeos these days, but hey- _they were being played with again_. And Bonnie Anderson was no Sid Phillips either. So they lived a normal life. And maybe if they missed walking around- _feeling_\- and making their own decisions every once in a while, this is what they _wanted_.

Or so they thought.

One day, a woman named Belle came to them. Said she was a queen, that she'd heard of their heroics, that if they came with her, they'd be given a life of royalty. It was exactly what they wanted most. Be considered real people.

So, of course, they said yes. And it was awesome. They lived in Auradon, and they may have been small, but they were considered heroes. They were seen as real people. And they got back at Sid Phillips. Life was good.

Being toys, of course, they couldn't age, couldn't have children. But their decisions were valid. What else could they want?

A legacy.

* * *

When Sally Phillips found them, cowering in their homes, she gathered them all up in her arms and carried them over to Felicia Facilier. Asked her to turn them into statues. They would still be able to feel and think and breathe, but now, they'd just be _toys_. What they should have been all along.

And she distributed them to orphans along the road, children of heroes and villains and villains' kids' alike.

And when Sally Phillips died, she knew her daddy would be okay with her killing him. Oh, he might be mad, at first, but eventually, he'd get over it because she'd done what he'd pledged to do the moment he'd ended up on the Isle of the Lost with riff-raff and freaks and magicians.

Made the toys _suffer_.

Because nothing was more painful than having no rights to your own body.


	37. Vanity: Chapter 18

_Beauty and the Beast_

Was theirs' really a tale as old as time when it was a tale of falling in love with a hideous beast, one who couldn't read, could hardly write, and who had left his subjects to rule themselves for nearly twenty years?

Belle had questions that she would only consider in the darkest hour of the night when she lay awake next to a man who had kept her from society and married her as soon as it was legal.

She had questions about the temper he'd kept from his years as a beast, a temper that would sometimes surface when the citizens of the town complained about the lack of jobs or food or the run down state of the town compared to the beast prince's lavish castle, a temper that would sometimes leave her bruised and scratched and bleeding and crying in the East Wing of the castle.

She had questions about why she was only ever _allowed_ out on his arm, in long dresses with high collars and sleeves that came up to her wrists. She had questions about the dying roses that had been his only gift to her since the library, that she'd held as she walked down the aisle to her future, surrounded by twenty thousand people she didn't know and forty she did.

She had questions that she wanted to be answered but didn't dare to voice, so she turned to other activities. She started listening to the wild stories that she hadn't believed possible with an open mind and started actively seeking out the heroes of the stories. And when she found them, terrified that their attackers would come back for them, she proposed a new plan to Prince Adam, a plan that would keep them all safe.

He agreed.

(It was one of the only things he'd ever agree with her on).

And thus, the United States of Auradon was born.

And Wendy Darling, so desperate to see her Peter Pan again, had told them exactly how to get to Neverland, and when they'd managed, he'd left to be with her in an instant. Leaving them Neverland, which they renamed to its original name.

_The Isle of the Lost_.

And Belle found every villain from every hero's story and sentenced them to life on the Isle of the Lost.

She'd never imagined that they would have _children_, not even when she discovered that she was pregnant. These people weren't capable of love, and that's what children are born of.

(She was wrong).

So Belle raised her son, away from villains and the immoral behavior that had led King Adam to becoming a beast, away from the blows that she would still sometimes receive if a law was passed to give the Isle of the Lost something to survive on (she soon stopped proposing those laws), and away from the harshness of the real world.

She raised him _well_, which she could see when his first proclamation was to bring the children on the Isle of the Lost over. When he tried to start with the worst four, the four that even the children of the heroes, who'd been raised away from anything to do with the Isle of the Lost's inhabitants (except Halloween costumes, and stories of how _great_ their parents were) knew of. The Witch and the Thief and the Troublemaker and the Whore. Consorts of War and Death and Pestilence and Conquest. Mal and Evie and Jay and Carlos.

And she could see that she'd done right by him after the coronation when the four children of villains had decided to be _good_. This was her son, that she'd raised away from the horrors of the world, that was so good and kind and trying to better others' lives.

That was why Belle _broke_ when she saw her son's wife walking out of their bedchamber with his _head_ in her hands, smiling and kissing the ones who came here with her, then Ben had brought over, and then taking her throne in the palace like she _belonged_ there (she did).

That was why Belle was so compliant when four children from the Isle of the Lost broke into the house that she was hiding in with Adam, the house that had belonged to her father, and dragged them off to what everyone was calling the Blood Palace, because there was always drying blood on the floors and the walls. That was why she allowed High Queen Mal to smile at her sweetly while she crushed the beast's neck under her heel. And that was why she allowed Mal to cut her head off with the same axe she had used on Ben.

Because Belle had honestly thought that she'd done something _right_, for once.

(She was so wrong).


	38. Vanity: Chapter 19

_Sleeping Beauty_

Maybe it would've been better to leave Maleficent dead. Almost certainly, actually. Then Audrey would be the sole heir to the kingdom and she and Phillip would have been happy and her Ma wouldn't be telling her that _divorce_ was the best option (but then again, it wasn't really an option, not when they were bound by Fae magicks and vows).

When Belle first contacted Aurora (Briar Rose), talking about Beasts and talking teakettles and the fact that magic _existed_, Aurora rolled her eyes. _Of course, _magick was real, she'd been _raised _by faeries. But Belle started talking of _other_ things, of keeping themselves and their children safe from the wicked and the cruel, and Aurora started listening. Belle spoke about a place called Neverland, and about her wedding to Prince Adam and how she was _so_ scared that Gaston would come for her.

And they became close friends. They were the first two, the two who went through so many trials, and so their friendship was only likely. And at Belle's wedding, she and Prince Adam announced the creation of a new set of states, the United States of Auradon, a safe haven for any _heroes_ who wanted to safely keep their villains in captivity. And Aurora agreed to join.

So, up came the next, most terrifying step. Sending Maleficent to the Isle of the Lost. The resurrection and keeping her in captivity, and moving her to the Isle.

And then _it _happened.

Everyone knew that Philip was the adventurous sort (he'd kissed a woman who'd been asleep for a thousand years), but even so, going after Maleficent was _foolish_.

Yet somehow, he succeeded.

Conquered the beast.

And knocked her up.

And every one of the heroes knew about it, but no one ever told the younger generation that Audrey had a sister who lived on the Isle.

Then came King Ben's proclamation, and he said that Mal would be coming over, and Audrey would meet her sister and Philip his _daughter_ (her family would fall apart). And yet they still didn't tell anyone, and when Audrey didn't come home screaming and crying they assumed that Mal didn't know, that Maleficent had hidden her greatest mistake from her daughter.

Except Maleficent didn't think it was a mistake, and Mal _did_ know, and she was just _biding her time_.

* * *

Soon after, the coronation happened, and everyone was happy, and life was good. Mal and Audrey made up, and one could almost believe that one day, they could really be sisters, despite the bad blood between them over Ben (and the title of Queen of the Moors, and general manners and etiquette and upbringing)

And all these stories and trials brought Aurora to today, watching her step-daughter take her throne, and put her ex-husband's head on a stand, and break down the barrier. Watching her announce today _the Day of Reckoning, _watching her saying that _if Audrey and her family came in quietly, there'd be less pain before their death._ All these stories and trials and hopes and dreams and fears brought Aurora to where she was now, walking down a pristine marble hall to the feet of four thrones, with the husband next to her and her daughter and mother behind her. Sacrificing herself.

All her stories and trials were irrelevant when her family bowed to the new High Queen and her lovers. When Mal snapped her fingers and Phillip fell down dead, when she looked at Briar Rose and told her to _tell Audrey the truth_.

All the stories of heroes would be soon forgotten, replaced by stories of a family who claimed that they ruled the Fae and the Moors, who screamed and cried as they burned from the inside out, whose blood still stained the halls of the Blood Palace.

And Mal smiled at her lovers from her throne and whispered over the corpses of her enemies.

"Finally."


	39. Envy: Chapter 1

**Envy: All The Devils Are Here**

* * *

_Of the line Le Fay_

The bar was rowdy and the air thick and hot. The poles were slicked down and the rooms filled with so much incense it was impossible to breathe. The bar was filled with empty bottles and piled with shot glasses. Girls with bland eyes and hooker heels twirled and danced and undulated with the music, bodies slicked with sweat and alcohol, jewellery clanging and eyelashes fluttering.

But there was one girl, in the centre of the room, who stood out. Her hair was long and dark, and she wore no clothes. She danced like she enjoyed it and messed her hair and licked her lips, but there was something about her. People paid for her time even though she never gave it to them, and three others, like her in their demeanour {powerful, demanding}, but unlike her in their state of attire stood in the corner of the room. The two males wore a bloody red and cruel eyes, cloaked in the protection of gods and deamons, while the female between them wore a dark blue evening gown, the colour the sky would have been if they could see it, and striking eyeliner and red lips, an untouchable goddess in every right.

The shorter, blonde male whispered into the woman's ear, and she smiled and dropped an apple into the bowl where the dancer was collecting the tips she couldn't carry on her person. The goddess and the dancer exchanged a glance, and then the dancer jumped off the stage, collecting her cash and her clothes from their scattered position on the floor, dressing as she went. By the time she reached the back corner, she looked every bit as respectable and powerful as any of the others, though her dress was shorter than the other girl's, and her smile crueller. She took her place, and the other man, darker in stature and larger in size, whispered against her neck.

"_You are the most beautiful dancer, your majesty."_

And the blue-haired woman laughed, beautiful and pure, and exclaimed, "Careful, boy. Don't let Mal get her claws too far into you."

The other boy, the blonde, mumbled something along the lines of '_Says you' _into the skin of her neck, too busy kissing her to commit effort to a comeback. The bluenette twisted her head so that their foreheads leaned against each other, their lips barely a burning inch apart, "_I am Conquest, boy. No one will ever hold me entranced."_ The blonde boy just smirked, bringing his lips to touch hers, his hands roaming her body, his eyes making contact with the dancer's. Then he pulled back, and the blue-haired girl sat, eyes unfocused and mind revelling in the scent and touch of the man. "_Sure about that, Genevieve?" _

The pretty girl- Genevieve- smiled and laughed, conceding the point. She stood up, with grace, but also joy and strength, and led the quartet's way out of the strip club. The street that housed _Rosie's _was just as dirty and rundown as the club itself. The roofs were falling off most of the buildings, and few of them had lights that weren't flickering, out, or red. There were no walls between the properties, and the roofs that were intact hung low. This was obviously downtown.

Once they were ways down the street, the woman who had been called Mal took charge. Even in her tight dress and rickety heels, she pulled herself up onto one of the few walls in the area and started running over the roofs, whooping in joy, and the others followed suit. They ran fast, even in the dark, their feet sure and their minds clear. They had all done this before.

Eventually, they came to a stop on the roof of one of the tallest buildings in the city, second only to one. Genevieve sat down, her legs hanging over the edge of the roof, her body facing the gorgeous centre of light that was just across the sea, and a clear bottle in her hands. She took a swig and passed it to Mal, who threw her head back and swallowed a quarter of the bottle in three large gulps. Her breath smelled of vodka and rotten fruit, now, and her skin smelled of smoke and a sharp, cool, and yet musky smell that one would associate with _magick_ if one were used to the practice. The dark-haired boy came up behind her and started slowly massaging her shoulders, kissing down the back of her neck and leaving little bites while he was at it, "_Jay,"_ she whispered, exhibiting none of the confidence she'd held on stage, "_Jay. Jay. Jayjayjayjayjay."_

He stopped his actions, spinning Mal around to face him, "Yeah, baby?"

"Don't stop."

He smirked at her, eyes glinting in the dark, reflecting the light of the city across the water, "Too late."

And the woman leaned forward until he was lying flat on his back, her mouth at his, her breasts pressed against his chest and her breath sharp. Her words blew over his lips and her eyes bore into his, cold and heartless and loving, "_Not until I say so."_ Their lips met, and they both put all their passion into the kiss, fully aware of their friends watching, both wishing they were in the same place.

After a few minutes of this, and Genevieve and the blonde boy passing a bottle back and forth, whispering nothings and staring out into the city of burning lights, Mal and Jay eventually surface for air, grabbing another half-full bottle that lay on the rooftop. They crawled over to the edge of the roof, letting their legs fall over the edge and sliding in between their friends, Mal between Genevieve and the blonde, and Jay next to him. Then Genevieve spoke, "_Carlos says that one day we'll rule them."_ She gestured out with her hand towards the city. Mal nodded, and continued, "_We will_."

Jay looked between the two girls and Carlos, and his lips curled into a wicked grin, "_We already would be if we lived there."_ He leaned across to kiss them, first Carlos and then Mal, and finally pressing a kiss to his lips and presenting it to Genevieve as if it were something of great value. She swatted his hand away and laughed, "_Liar."_

"To you, fair Evie? Never. I'd swear on my honour," he glanced around as if making sure no one was listening in, "Or, I would, if I had any honour." She smiled, and Mal's full laugh echoed across the alleyways and abandoned homes of the island they lived on.

"That's not what I was saying, dummy. We'd never have known each other if we lived there. And we'd have no desire to rule." Evie rolled her eyes, stealing the vodka bottle back from Mal, and taking a polite sip. Then she lay back, staring at the sky that was so clouded with smog, and a magic barrier. Her eyes reflected the stars she couldn't see and her lips smiled the smile of queens that have exactly what they want.

"_All the more reason to appreciate the Isle, in all its hideous glory," _ Carlos responded, grinning grotesquely as he took a sip of something from an unlabelled bottle, "_it got me you guys."_ Evie and Jay sighed, never quite understanding Carlos's love for the place that was their home. Mal just smiled and joined Evie, lying back and saying, "_It will be our time soon. I can feel it_."


	40. Envy: Chapter 2

_Of the line Grimhilde_

Evie sat on a leather seat in an iron palace. Her face was impartial and her lips were positioned to make her look neither intimidating nor powerless. Her legs were crossed demurely and her nails were long and painted. On her head, she wore a tiara made of seashells and gold wires and her legs were stockinged and strong. To her left sat Mal- long hair plaited underneath a golden crown, bodily forced into a long dress and heels that weren't eight inches off the ground and plastic, and to her right sat Carlos and Jay, in white and black suits respectively, eyes bright and golden circlets balanced on their heads.

They looked down from their chairs at the man who lay on the floor in front of them, blood trickling from a gash in his cheek onto ripped and stained clothes, his forehead nearly touching the floor.

"_I'll ask you one last time,"_ she said coldly, eyes trained on the unfortunate figure in front of her, "_did you poison Gizelle?"_ The man shook his head violently, rivulets of blood scattering across the tiled floor, and Evie's velvet shoes. She looked down in distaste and rolled her eyes towards Mal. The purple-haired faerie tilted the corner of her lip up, the only indication that she had even noticed the blood on her lover's shoe. To Mal, blood was like water- easy to find and commonly spilt on clothes. These shoes would probably end up in Mal's closet now, if just to make her mother think that she had killed someone recently. Mal had discovered young that murder on the Isle didn't help, that it only cut down the populace and made life easier for King Adam. That was probably when the four of them had become the Isle's justice system.

"_Stand up, you coward. Face your punishment like a man," _Mal hissed at the man cowering on the floor, nodding at a servant to pull him upright. Mal bowed for no one, not even her mother, "_Tell the truth."_ Mal's compulsions were strong, her nature of Truth Seeker coming through, but the man kept his eyes on the tile patterns and shook his head frantically. The Fae scoffed and nodded at Evie, who sighed and rolled her eyes. Another false case. GJ would be disappointed. They'd really thought that they had the murderer this time.

"_The court hereby finds you innocent of any crimes committed towards Gizelle and frees you from your previous sentence of fifty years penance. If you appear in this court again, it will become one hundred years. You may take your leave after the judges, and any confiscated possessions and property have now been returned to you. Good Day."_ With that, she rose and brushed out of the room, shortly followed by Carlos and Jay. Mal delivered one last, swift kick to the stomach of the defendant, and then exited after them, already taking off the crown and undoing her hair (as much as Mal liked ordering people around, she was not so much a fan of the court proceedings, specifically the dress code).

"_Can't you at least wait until we're out of the building?"_ Evie asked, though with no real malice. She grabbed the crown before Mal could drop it where she stood. A servant hurried over to take all their crowns and then dissolved into shadows as soon as they had. Jay rolled his eyes and swept Evie up into a bridal hold, smirking down at her, "But where would the fun it that be, Genevieve?" He too had already abandoned the tightest pieces of his clothing, the suit jacket lost somewhere in the hall behind them, his tie loosened and his top button undone. Evie shrieked, trying to worm her way out of his grasp, but he held her tight, carrying her smoothly up a flight of stairs to her room.

The court was held in what was technically her mom's palace. It was in the Evil Queen's name, and Evie had far too many memories of being forced to burn books, apply and reapply makeup in these halls for it to really be anything else, but on the weekends that her mother spent at Maleficent's or Cruella's (all of them), expecting her to sit politely and quietly and sew and cook, the castle with iron walls was _theirs_, and the screams that echoed the halls were Evie and the whimpers were Carlos and the crashes were Mal and Jay.

And Jay lay her down and started unbuttoning the dress she wore, Mal pulling off her shoes and Carlos massaging her breasts, her blue hair splayed out, wild and beautiful. Mal was (somehow) already out of her dress, and then Jay leaned down and whispered into her ear, "_It's so much more fun when we do it like this, my Queen."_ And Evie faded out, leaving four people as beautiful as they were rotten.

When she resurfaced four hours later, the horizon was dark, and the beacon of light that was Auradon gleaming outside her window. She climbed out of bed, careful not to disturb the tangled mess of limbs around her, and walked over to the window. The artificial light bounced off her bare skin, and if she stared at the glowing city long enough, she could almost believe what her lovers said, that she'd rule there one day, with them by her side, instead of the prince her mother was so desperate to prepare her for. She heard a creaking.

"I'll come back to bed soon, Carlos. Hang on."

"_Not Carlos,"_ the person replied, "_and I'm not asking you to."_ Mal stood behind her, a sheet of some sort wrapped around her body, smiling at Evie. Her hair was tangled and there was probably more of her lipstick on Jay's torso than on her lips, but to Evie, she was beautiful. The Fae creature drifted forward, to stand next to Evie at the window, and leaned her head on the blue-haired girl's shoulder, "_Do you doubt that you will one day be a queen of Auradon, even as the champion of Conquest?"_ Mal's question sounded innocent, but nothing about Mal ever was. There was a message to everything. _Do you doubt us?_

"Never."

The two queens smiled at each other, half-vindictive and half-excited. Mal's eyes fluttered in the dim light of the Isle and tattoo on her collarbone gleamed, the magic in the sigil playing up in the witching hour.

"_When we take over Auradon, the first thing I'll do is make you a real throne. One with silk and ribbon. And then everyone will see you as I do, Genevieve Amara Grimhildejardöttir. And you will be radiant."_


	41. Envy: Chapter 3

_Of the line Jafar_

The barge drifted slowly through murky water towards a run-down island. The men on the barge all wore bullet-proof vests and sunglasses, and each carried a button that they could press that would whisk them back to Auradon in a stream of light. The barge was filled with vaguely-sorted trash: broken furniture, large pieces of rusted metal, foods that were slightly off, rolls of discoloured materials and ripped clothes. The air was tense, the bargeman's eyes darting around, wary and worried. The barge docked.

A cry of joy broke through the smog, and the barge was covered in bodies; children, adults, men and women all seized the boat, each person picking up as much as they could carry, and then still more. But four figures stood out from the rest.

They were systematic, taking what they wanted instead of what they saw, regardless of whether someone already had the item or not. If someone had something they wanted, one of two things would happen. Either the gorgeous blue-haired girl would stroll over, talking to whoever had the item, and while she did, the dark-haired male would steal the item. When they casually strolled away, the target would yell.

"_Thief! Whore!"_

And the woman would turn around and blow a kiss, and the thief would laugh and run towards their friends.

The second option was far more terrifying but far more efficient. The other woman, the one with long purple hair, would step up to the target, and her eyes would _glow_. Then she would casually take the item handed to her, and she would leave. Behind her, the person would stand entranced, and would sometimes whisper a word after her, "_Witch_."

And so they were the Thief and the Whore and the Witch, and the last one, the blonde who walked around tripping up others, playing silly pranks and tying shoelaces together, he got the title of _Troublemaker_. But the Thief was the one who shone on the barges. He stole and he danced and he cried out with joy, and he had the time of his life. And when the four left with all their spoils, he would lead them out, helping the bluenette down and tripping up the blonde. And then they would run, fast and furious, and the bargemen wouldn't see them again until the next month.

Jay and Carlos hid in one of Hell Hall's many secret passages. Neither of them was seriously out of breath, although they were panting slightly. They crawled through the passages, smirking and winking and silencing each other, loot in their hands and joy in their eyes. They crawled through the passages to the hollowed back of a closet, which was what constituted as Carlos's bedroom. There they left all the materials they'd collected for Evie, all the jewels that were for Mal, and all the alcohol and cigarettes they'd keep as long as possible. Carlos was the only one with a 'room' his parent would never go into, and so most days his room was their storeroom, as he spent his days with them, in the court or the city, and he spent his nights with them, in Evie or Jay's room, or Mal's club.

They crept back and climbed out the only open window, lightly landing on their feet next to Mal and Evie, who smiled at them and grabbed their hands and started running. The boys followed, and soon they were all a blur, red and white and blue and black. And when they finally came to a halt, hardly out of breath and smiles splitting their faces, they stood outside a marketplace, all temporary stalls and stolen wares. They exchanged glances and walked in.

The effect that they had on the crowds in the market was shocking- they weren't Maleficent. They had done nothing to _earn_ their place of the Isle, and yet people cleared out of their way like they could kill them with nothing more than a glance _(well, Mal probably could. Jay didn't know the full extent of her abilities)_. And yet here they were, store owners cowering out of their way, Evie grabbing the nicest materials she could find, Mal collecting the most expensive looking pieces of _anything_, probably to sell back to the store owners, and Carlos, with a cigarette between his lips, hair messed and a fond smile on his face, staring after the girls. These three were beautiful, Jay realised. They were magic and air and water, and he was fire and earth, and the four of them made up _everything_ in this world.

"_What are you thinking about, my Lord?"_ Carlos asked from the desk of a stall, "_You don't wear that look often."_ Jay's response was to roll his eyes, "_They're beautiful. I want to give them everything."_ He looked towards the girls, whose bodies were now pressed together, Mal backing Evie into a stall that held rolls of fabrics, her lips trailing along the other woman's collarbone.

"_And you will,"_ Carlos told him, blowing smoke into the air, "_you are a king and you will give your lovers everything they deserve and more when we reach Auradon."_


	42. Envy: Chapter 4

_Of the line De Vil_

There was enough incense and magick in the room to choke someone. Maleficent's Palace was always like this, especially when Jafar and the Evil Queen were visiting, and Mal was home. Whatever magick there was on the Isle immediately gravitated towards the most powerful, the ones who had the most prowess in the magickal arts, and that was Maleficent (or so she thought. Her daughter was the _Queen_ of deceit and trickery, and so she never came home unless Grimhilde and Jafar were there as well, and so no one suspected her powers). Today was special, as all of the worst villains and all of their parents were in the same place, a rarity.

The Evil Queen and Cruella sat in one corner, regretting their loss of figure and the birth of their children, while Evie and Mal sat on the dining table in the centre of the room in fake leather and plastic jewellery, gossiping and memorising schoolwork and poisons. Jay sat at the bay window, sorting the value of the pieces he had stolen- theirs, his father's, worthless. And Carlos stood in the darkest corner of the room, in the thinnest and coldest clothing he owned, silently plotting a million ways he could kill everyone over nineteen in this room.

The last member of the group of eight stood just outside the door frame, waiting for silence for a dramatic entrance, but everyone else just continued what they were doing. From his vantage point, Carlos could see the irritation on her face. Irritation was bad for Mal's health and body, that much he knew, so he put his fingers to his lips and let out the most piercing whistle he could, effectively stopping all conversation and allowing Maleficent her entrance. If he was honest, he thought her to be an over-publicized drama queen with no talent and very little potential for true _evil_, but this was the Isle of the Lost. Honesty was the worst policy, and so he stood silently and pretended to cower in fear when she swooped into the room.

"_Our time is near,"_ the faerie's voice echoed through the room and pierced his lungs, but he stood his ground. She was not talking, after all, about _his_ time, but about his mother's, even though Cruella's time had passed with her opportunity for a dalmatian-skin coat. Mal, however, flinched. Maleficent may not have the _greatest_ power in the room, but she still had power, else she would never be as feared as she was, and locking two of the most powerful faeries in history in the same country could cause issues, let alone the same _room_. Evie put her hand on their lover's knee, and Mal eventually sank into Evie, tired of hiding and fighting with her mother.

"_Auradon will burn,"_ came the faerie's voice again, bouncing off the walls and echoing through their souls, "_and I will be the one to set it alight. And then, when everything is gone, I will rule from the ashes."_ Grimhilde and Cruella looked up at that, Cruella's brow furrowed into a frown (Grimhilde had too much botox in her face to do anything other than _smile_), "You mean _we_ will rule from the ashes." That had Jafar looking around, and Jay crept further into the room. Everyone knew, to an extent, that Maleficent had no intentions of sharing Auradon, should she get it, but normally, she at least accommodated the other four has-beens in her speeches. And if she didn't, no one was ever willing to correct her.

Cruella continued, "After all, _I_ am the one funding your ridiculous escape plans. If I were to pull out, _c'est finni_." His mother loved lording that fact that she was the only one on the Isle with any sort of earned currency, but she had never brought it up around Maleficent before. Carlos waited for the unavoidable nuclear blast that would come from Maleficent, but instead, there was just silence. When he opened his eyes, he just saw Maleficent nodding her head, eyes shut, "Very true, Cruella. Only, you've forgotten one point." Her eyes opened, and fae power flared within them. She flipped her head between the three other villains in the room, "_I rule the Isle. And although I can't kill you, I can make you suffer. I am the one who makes the plans for the four of us, and so I am the one who will rule."_ Jay, who had already been chuckling at Cruella's ridiculous challenge, let out a full-bellied laugh at that, and before anyone could react, Maleficent had swooped over to him, pushing him to the floor without the need to touch him. She bent over and whispered something inaudible to him, before kicking him once with her metal-toed boot, causing Mal to lunge forward, desperate to save him.

And that was just the _worst_ idea. Maleficent caught one glimpse of her daughter trying to help someone and exploded. She grabbed Mal by the wrist and pushed her down to the floor, near Jay. Her eyes flared with power, and Mal was writhing on the floor, blood dripping from her nose, and her mouth opened in a silent scream. Maleficent turned away from her, leaving her there to suffer, while she addressed her audience, "Anyone else feeling like _helping_ them out? Carlos?" She turned towards him, but he stayed in his corner, looking on impassively. Right now, the worst thing to do would be to try _help_. It would be easier to help Mal later and then come back to clean out the dried blood.

"Genevieve?"

Evie looked close to tears, being raised in a far softer environment than the rest of her lovers, but she shook her head violently, blue curls flying out. Maleficent nodded satisfactorily, "I thought so." She turned back to Mal, who was still on the floor, and Jay, who was on his knees, cradling what was probably a broken wrist, "Don't defy me again. Go." She released Mal from the spell, and the purple-haired faerie lay on the floor, eyes blank and dazed. Maleficent frowned, kicking the girl to get her to move. Eventually, Jay and Mal hobbled out, leaning on each other. Carlos turned to get a bucket and a mop, and Evie left quickly, announcing that the blood made her feel faint and that she was going to lie down.

* * *

"_Motherfucker," _came Evie's voice, furious and quiet, "_bitch who doesn't deserve to live. Cunt."_ Carlos smiled, looking at the blue-haired girl in her _real_ clothes, stomping around the rooftop that they were all balanced on, cursing like there was no tomorrow and drinking about of an unlabeled pink bottle. Mal looked on fondly, wincing when Jay would dab alcohol on one of the many cuts received while writing on the floor, and silently muttering under her breath. Carlos didn't need to see her lips to know that it was probably similar to what Evie was saying.

Jay caught his eye and jerked his head towards the distraught bluenette, dabbing another of Mal's wounds while he was at it. Mal winced, and Jay brought her face to him, kissing her while dabbing at another cut. Catching the point, Carlos headed over to Evie, grabbing her from behind and twisting her around till their noses touched. Her cursing trailed off into moans as he started in on her, starting from her collarbone and kissing his way up to her neck, and eventually her lips.

Evie pulled away then, and went over to Jay, chastising him for tended to Mal's wounds before his own wrist, and pulling him away, probably to the small, overrun Isle hospital for a cast. That left him and Mal on the rooftop, Mal silently celebrating the stop of her wounds being cleaned. Smirking, Carlos headed over, taking Jay's place. Mal's eyes narrowed and she hissed under her breath, her words slurring into one long stream of curses. She looked at Carlos with hooded eyes but said nothing until he was done cleaning her cuts. Then her eyes flashed open, and she smiled with all her teeth, "_Her time is over."_ Mal's voice echoed similarly to her mother's, but this time it didn't make Carlos feel the need to hide, just the need to _kill_ whoever injured his Mal, "_She will not rule Auradon. We will. We will be Kings and Queens, and we will be great. Our names will echo the halls of the palaces for centuries."_


	43. Envy: Chapter 5

_Of the line Hades_

The room that she lived in was dark and cold, water leaking from a crack in the ceiling and creating a hollowed puddle on the wooden floor. The room was sparse, with a threadbare rug near a cold fireplace, and an armchair with a broken foot in the corner. Any pieces of bedding the girl owned was laid out in a bed-like shape in the corner. The nicest thing in the house was on one of the stone walls. A painting of two women, one as pale as the moon with bloody lips and pitch black eyes, and the other a little girl with her white hair in pigtails, her blue-ish skin _glowing_ and her irises shining an incandescent gold. A tabby kitten with missing patches of floor was curled up on the bedding, shedding hair all over the thin duvet and pillow.

The girl from the painting entered the room, except she was obviously several years older than depicted in the picture. Her limbs were long and thin, thin enough to see the bone through the skin, and her skin had the same blue tinge, but she looked _healthy_. Her hair was thick, although it was currently in a french braid, and her eyes were sharp. Whatever else was wrong with this girl, it was not sickness.

She started to go through some form of a routine. She deposited a silver dagger that was dripping with blood onto a rickety dressing table. She placed a leather-bound and breaking book into the only open slot in the bookshelf that hung from the wall. She went to the painting and the bedding in the corner and the armchair and checked for something. Once satisfied, she lit the fireplace with a flick of her fingers and nodded satisfactorily to herself. Finally, she picked up a cloth from the mantelpiece and the dagger from the dresser and sank down into the armchair, and started cleaning the bloodied metal.

Then several things happened at once- first, the girl went into a coughing fit. Next, the cat jumped up, hairs on end, and streaked out the room into the rest of the house. Finally, a boy with hair as white as hers, if dyed black at the roots, climbed in through the window, followed by three others- a girl with long purple hair and long nails, a pale girl with large eyes and blue hair, and a dark-skinned boy with red streaks in his hair. After this procession of events, the girl managed to right herself, and she turned to face the four intruders. For a second, she glared. Then her lips curled into a wicked smile.

'_I should have expected you, no?"_ Was her starting question, and Carlos smiled, heading over to hug her. They were close in how they enjoyed spreading destruction and death, although neither of them came anywhere near Mal (she didn't know that). She gestured to the floor, the only place to sit in the cramped room, and the blue-haired girl's eyebrow went up. The host rolled her eyes and offered the broken armchair, which was taken gladly. The rest of them sat on the floor.

"_I'd have personally been offended if you'd expected anything else,"_ Carlos said, leaning back against her wall, "_after all, Hayley, you would have done the exact same thing."_ Hayley nodded, unable to deny it. She _would_ have done the same thing. She'd have done more, "_What brings you to my humble abode?"_ Humble indeed, but it would do for now. After all, she'd eventually be a _queen_, and then no one would be able to match her. Except, possibly, the four sitting in front of her.

"_Exchange student programme,"_ Jay replied, smirking. His fingers were twitching as if he was desperate to grab something, and his eyes darted across the room, looking for hiding places for anything of real value. Luckily, Hayley had nothing of real value except the painting. Not yet. "_We're being sent to Auradon. We need you to run the Court while we're gone."_ It was a promise of power, and most in the Isle would gladly jump on it, but she wasn't most. Her eyes narrowed, "_Why me? Gaston and Lei have been campaigning for years. They know the system."_ He nodded, pleased with her answer.

"We do still want our positions back," he reminded her, "_If everything goes as planned, you could be a queen in a meagre five years, just so long as you run the Isle according to our wishes and bide your time."_ And wow, didn't that offer get her all tingly. Queen alongside these four was like a mortal among gods. Except she was the god, and they were the mortals. She told them as much, "I'm a goddess. I could take whatever I want." The purple-haired girl smiled, and Hayley knew she knew that Hayley had absolutely no training in using her godly powers, only the mortal ones that everyone could have, should they try hard enough.

"Fine. Say I do. Queen of _what_? There's a big difference between Queen of England and Queen of Mexico. What am I signing up for?" Finally, the prettiest spoke up, and her voice was like her appearance- quiet and beautiful.

"_Queen of Death."_

And Hayley understood. They had the power to take her off the Isle, to put her on her rightful throne, but wouldn't unless she agreed to serve _under_ them, to follow their wishes. They were making deals with a devil, and Hayley smiled because deals were her expertise. "_Alright then. I'll get the paper and pens. We have a deal to create."_

* * *

Later, after hours and hours of bargaining and dealing and revising, Hayley collapsed into the recently-abandoned armchair. Her palm throbbed where she'd cut it for blood to sign with, and she closed her eyes. '_It was worth it'_ she told herself and checked the ink stains on her palm. She sank further into the chair and stroked the tabby cat, which had reappeared into the third or fourth hour of negotiating. She would be the queen. She _would_. No matter who or what stood in her way.


	44. Envy: Chapter 6

_Of the line Tremaine_

_The drought was the very worst  
When the flowers that we'd grown together died of thirst  
It was months and months of back and forth  
You're still all over me like a wine-stained dress I can't wear anymore_

_Hung my head as I lost the war, and the sky turned black like a perfect storm_

A girl and a boy curled closer together on the cold stone street. The rain came down harder than before, soaking them to the bone, leaving the boy's dark hair clinging to his face and the girl's mascara to streak down her cheeks. Both of them were barefoot, their feet blistered and their clothes were torn. People walked up and down the cobblestone street, completely ignoring the pair except to kick their feet out of the way.

The house the pair were pressed against was expensive, that was obvious from the first glance. It was a double-story Tudor, with a well-kept garden in the front and a neatly bricked pathway up to the front door. From the inside of the house came a warm light and high-pitched screams. The door swung open, and a man ran out of the house, closely followed by a vase, which shattered on the path, nicking his ankles. he didn't stop.

The boy held the girl closer, his dark eyes following the man all the way up the path and into the street. When the man stepped off the property, the girl let out a sigh that caused him to spin around one more time, looking for whatever was stirring in the garden. They froze, and after a tense few seconds, the large silhouette of the man disappeared into the darkness.

Immediately, the couple sprung into action. The boy pushed himself up and offered a hand to the girl, who took it gratefully, smiling at her companion. The pair walked around the house to what could be taken as a back garden, although it was more likely to be mistaken for a small forest. The house that looked so well cared for on the public's side was an absolute _mess_ at the back. They snuck in through a door that had been left open, even in the raging storm, and into a room that vaguely resembled a kitchen, if one looked through the thick layers of dust, broken glass, and what was either blood or wine. From there, they took a cramped, spiralling staircase up to the floor that was emitting the warm candlelight, and separated, locking themselves into different rooms.

_The rain came pouring down when I was drowning  
That's when I could finally breathe  
And by morning gone was any trace of you,  
I think I am finally clean_

_There was nothing left to do  
When the butterflies turned to dust that covered my whole room  
So I punched a hole in the roof  
Let the flood carry away all my pictures of you_

When the couple emerged, they looked completely different. The girl's dark hair was coiffed, her skin pale but her lips red, her body slipped into an elegant gown, and the feet that had looked so raw and painful before clean and balancing in thin stilettos. The boy's hair was neatly combed, and he stood tall in a black suit with silver trimmings. He too wore expensive looking shoes, and the hands that had been caked in dirt a mere half-hour ago were clean, the nails trimmed and the skin soft. They smiled at each other and headed down the marble staircase in the centre of the landing.

In the parlour sat two very similar women, alike in skin tone and hair colour and facial features in general. Each wore a slightly tarnished ball gown, some feature of the gown (the colour, or the appealing shape, or the detailing) long lost. One woman cried into her teacup, sniffles and sobs coming out at random. The male headed towards her and started holding her, whispering soothing words into her ear and trying to convince her to eat. The girl just sat on the chair across from the second woman, back straight and silent. She didn't even look to the tea set on the table, only the boy as he consoled his mother.

Eventually, the crying woman calmed herself and stood abruptly, stalking up to her room, grabbing a bottle of what looked like very expensive wine from the wine rack against the southern wall on her way. The other woman set her empty teacup down and followed her sister up the stairs, either to stop her or join her.

_The water filled my lungs, I screamed so loud but no one heard a thing_

_Rain came pouring down when I was drowning  
That's when I could finally breathe  
And by morning, gone was any trace of you,  
I think I am finally clean  
I think I am finally clean  
Said I think I am finally clean_

The boy and the girl were alone again, and they smiled at each other, but not in the secretive way of earlier. This smile was sadder, more regretful and angry. Their eyes were dark as they looked at each other, furious with the man who made Drizella cry, who didn't even know he had a son, who tried to cash in on _Anastasia's money_ because Drizella had none of her own and neither did he. They would eventually take this case to the Court, but for now, they were content to be furious, because from their fury came something unjustifiable and yet wonderful, something that was there the rest of the time but was only allowed to come out when the cousins were so angry they weren't thinking straight.

And sure enough, out it came. The girl's perfume grew heavier in his head, and she crawled up next to him, in the same position they'd been earlier, yet different. And soon, his head came down and hers went up, and their lips met in a searing kiss that was everything she missed. And his hands came around her waist, travelling up and down and everywhere, gently pulling her body over so that her weight was on top of him. '_Astoria,'_ he whispered against her collarbone, pulling her dress down over her shoulders, '_Astoria. Tori. So beautiful, darling. I love you. I love you.'_ And her dress was gone and so was his shirt, their bodies so warm and close. She was straddling him, both their fingers venturing across the other's body, a pleasure they allowed themselves so rarely. And she was shuddering on top of him, leaning over to kiss him again and hold his face to hers, their breath mingling in the bare inch between them.

_Ten months sober, I must admit  
Just because you're clean don't mean you don't miss it  
Ten months older, I won't give in  
Now that I'm clean I'm never gonna risk it_

* * *

_The drought was the very worst  
When the flowers that we'd grown together died of thirst_

Many months later, the two of them sat in the Court, heads held high, backs straight, faces impartial, voting that the _master_ of the Tremaine household be put to death. The man who hadn't even known that there were witnesses to his crimes, to his _abuse_, other than the two sisters, sat in shock, not bothering to defend himself, staring at the man who was his _son_, the son he hadn't known he had. And this _was_ his son, Dimitri Tremaine, the Truthseeker had said so. And that was how the man died, shocked that he had a legacy, staring at the Tremaine cousins, ignoring the Kings and Queens of the Isle of the Lost (ignoring the Queens was a surefire way to get killed, whether you were guilty of the crime you were being tried for or not).

When the Tremaine cousins parted ways, they didn't even look at each other. It had been ten months since their last night of anger and passion, ten months since Astoria had told Dimitri that _they couldn't keep this up, this was wrong, their mothers would kill them_, ten months since their smiles and daring escapes. Ten months.

Astoria woke up in Dimitri's bed the next morning, hungover and drunk off happiness. She left in his shirt, smiling all the way home.

_Rain came pouring down when I was drowning  
That's when I could finally breathe  
And by morning gone was any trace of you,  
I think I am finally clean_

She was right, of course. Drizella screamed at the girl, threw her across the room, hit her and cut her and _hurt_ her when she caught them, and when she told her sister, Anastasia vowed to never speak to either of them again, to disown both of them, unless they broke it off at that second. They didn't. They moved to the backroom of Madame Medusa's Pawn Shop and Boutique, and kept away the thieves and the tricksters, and life was good.

_Rain came pouring down when I was drowning  
That's when I could finally breathe  
And by morning gone was any trace of you  
I think I am finally clean  
Finally clean  
Think I'm finally clean  
Think I'm finally clean_


	45. Envy: Chapter 7

_Of the line Facilier_

The purple-haired fae approached the broken shop. Alone, for once. It had never been _likely_ to see her around as herself, but she had never been seen in front of this specific shop, and for good reason. A sign with golden lettering proclaimed '_Felicia Facilier's Voodoo and Witchcraft Solutions. Est. 1996',_ and a murky light shone out through dirtied windows.

The door creaked open, welcoming the young woman in. A smaller, even dirtier sign on the door read '_NO KINGS OR QUEENS ALLOWED'_ in tiny letters. Green eyes caught on the plaque and the girl scoffed, brushing past the door and stepping into the dusty room. Another woman sat at the counter, mixing ingredients and ideas one and the same, odds and ends flying across the room. She was dark skinned, braids tight against her skull and piercings through skin and cartilage. Without looking up, she started talking.

'_Didn't you read the sign, Your Grace?'_

The purple-haired faerie- a queen- sighed. She threw her hood back and sat on one of the rickety chairs in the corner of the room, lips pursed and eyes wandering. '_I'm not here as a queen.'_

Felicia Facilier crossed over to the woman and sat across from her, eyes piercing the wooden table. Her voice was quiet when she spoke again, and her breath smelled of whiskey and nicotine, '_Then what are you here as, Mal?'_ Mal sighed and turned away, looking everywhere except the shopkeeper.

'_A daughter. A lover. A friend. A mother-to-be.'_

Felicia's eyes shot up to meet the fae's, and she saw the honesty, the terror in them. A mother-to-be. There would only be one reason for Mal to come here if she was indeed expecting. There was only one reason women ever came to Felicia when they were expecting. And now a queen stood in front of her, asking her to perform the same task, and offering what was likely to be any form of payment, and any amount, if Felicia knew anything about Mal.

'_You have a payment?'_ A standard question with what was sure to be an extraordinary answer. Not that Dr Facilier took anything less than extraordinary as a payment for this specific task, not when the service was so highly valued and so understaffed on the Isle of the Lost. Mal's lidded eyes stared up at her, calculating silently how much she wanted this service from Felicia. Eventually, she went with the diplomatic route, likely learned from her sister-wife. '_What would you ask?'_ Her skin was pale and shining, her body hunched in on itself, showing Felicia exactly how much this was worth to the fae creature.

'_Ten years' service after your death.'_ That was the standard payment for the service Felicia was being asked to perform, but this was a fae. Mal would never be held down to service a lesser being, especially one that would not outlive her. She may have gotten herself knocked up, but the girl was generally smart. She knew ten years' service was a ten-year trap in a nightmarish realm of in-between.

'_Five hundred thousand pieces of silver and immunity from any revenge anyone would ever want on you.'_

Felicia's lips curled into a wicked grin, eyes dangerous and body calm, poised to strike. '_Now, Mal, you know I don't deal in something as ordinary as money. Favours, Mal. Secrets and promises and dreams and favours. That's what I deal in. If you have nothing of that value, please leave.'_ The queen's eyes widened and her fear shone through again, for just another second, before her whole face shut down. She'd made a decision.

'_One favour from me- and only me. Not family or friends or allies or lovers. Just me. And the favour **dies** with me.'_ And there it was. Possibly the most valuable thing in Auradon or the Isle. A favour from a queen, a faerie, and a judge in the Iron Court.

'_One unquestionable favour from you. And you have yourself a deal.'_ Mal's eyes shone for a second and she took Felicia's hand, grateful for the escape she'd been given. They shook hands and the deal was sealed, binding both of them to the agreement and the terms of voodoo. As soon as it happened, it was done, and Felicia started moving around the room, mixing a potion, grinding and biting and burning ingredients. Eventually, she handed Mal a tiny vial of a potion that glowed the brightest blue the faerie had ever seen in her life. She lifted the vial to her lips and downed everything in it without a second thought. Immediately, she collapsed to the floor, lights burning within her womb and her mouth open in an endless and silent scream.

* * *

Eventually, her body stilled and curled in on itself, trying to protect her from something that had already happened. Felicia pushed her into the corner of the room that held blankets and pillows for this exact reason, and once again cursed the Auradonians for making this her job, for making it so unsafe for women on the Isle- even Queens.

Mal hobbled slowly towards Maleficent's Palace, one arm holding her hood closer to her face to avoid recognition, the other curled around her abdomen, trying to hide the blood that soaked through the thin shirt she wore. She'd known what she risked when she left for Felicia's, but she'd never imagined the pain it would create, never imagined that she couldn't take it. She didn't know which pain was worse- the torture of surrendering a favour to an unknown or the loss of her unborn child. An arm silently slipped around her waist and she started, but when she looked she just saw Jay, silent and determined as always, helping and not hurting.

'_You didn't think I'd let you go alone, my Queen?'_ He asked quietly, now supporting more of her weight than she was, '_You didn't think we'd figure it out? Evie's waiting at home with a hot bath and Carlos is taking all the cases for the next forty-eight hours. You've been sick for weeks and eaten nothing for the last three days. You haven't been dancing. We knew.'_

And that was all it took for the previously strong Queen to collapse onto the man next to her, nearly sending them both tumbling to the ground, if not for the fast reflexes Jay had developed while stealing. Then they both sunk slowly to the floor, Jay cradling Mal while she wept. Everyone was strong on the Isle, both mentally and physically, but this was one too many decisions to be asked to make, even if it was the right one.

'_I will punish them for making you into this,'_ the King swore to his Queen while he held her shaking body on the stone roads of the Isle of the Lost, '_and you will see that you are the strongest of them all.'_


	46. Envy: Chapter 8

_Of the line LeGume_

A young girl stood in the centre of a circular room. Her dark hair reached her shoulders and was held back from her face by a faded yellow ribbon. She wore a plain black frock with a white apron tied around her chest. She wore school shoes and white socks that came up to her knees. She stared straight into her own eyes, into the dirty mirror that lined every room of the wall. Something rattled, and the chipped door slammed against one of the mirrors, spreading the cracks further across the gleaming walls. A boy sprinted in, his shoes scuffed bare, middle button on his shirt popped off. His hair was the same dark shade as hers, and his ears stuck out from his face.

"_Gizelle! Gizelle!" _he shouted joyfully, disregarding the fact that she was barely five feet from him, "_Ils sont dehors! Viens vite!" _His mostly pale skin was blotched red from excitement, and an angry blush trailed his neck down into his collar. He turned and sprinted back out, his footsteps slamming loudly against the woodblock floor.

Gizelle followed.

Out in the street, she saw a beautiful girl, a little bit older than she was, laughing at a small figure lying in the dirt. The pretty girl had dark hair like Gizelle's, but it wasn't as long as hers. It was in that awkward stage of an adolescent growing their hair out, not quite brushing her shoulders. Then the girl started kicking the figure, and she wasn't so pretty anymore. She started cutting the figure, which Gizelle was vaguely able to discern as a young boy, and then she became _affreux_ in Gizelle's eyes.

Gizelle and Gaston were eight when they watched Mal maim and torture for the first time.

* * *

The same girl stood in the same room, but everything was older. One of the mirror panels had fallen off in the passing years, and the others had become so dusty only the brightest part of her eyes could still be seen. Her hair had the same qualities- dark brown and slightly stringy, but that was one of the only ways to tell that this was the same girl from three years ago. Her jaw had broadened, and she now wore just the slightest touch of makeup to cover up a scar that marred her cheek. She was not a pretty girl.

A faint noise could be heard- there was jeering in the street. Gizelle sighed as she left the room, graceful yet awkward, adolescence making her limbs unfamiliar and uncontrollable, but dancing making them strong and capable.

There was a crowd on the street, forming a crushing circle. Gizelle pushed her way through with the shoulders inherited from her father, making her way to the centre of the pack. On the floor lay a boy with ears too big for his face.

"_Idiot, garçon! Se lèvent et se battent! Êtes-vous un homme ou un lâche?" _Gizelle looked down at the figure of her whimpering brother and scoffed. Weak. She nodded at the other boy in the fight- he wasn't much bigger than Gaston Jr, in fact, he might've been smaller (he was pale and skinny- she could see his bones through his ribs).

"_Finis-le." Finish it._

The boy smiled, and suddenly his weight didn't matter anymore. He was everywhere at once, kicking and cutting in a style that seemed vaguely familiar to Gizelle (like from a dream, or a distant memory). And he didn't stop when it looked like Gaz was going to bleed out. _Aucun honneur parmi les voleurs_. And so she stepped in.

Gizelle was eleven the first time she nearly died.

Gizelle was on the barge that brought the rubbish from the mainland. The rubbish that she fought tooth and nail for. She clutched at the almost mould-free loaf of bread and the three pens that seemed to still have ink. She glanced around desperately for Gaz, but her sight caught on the pale boy- his name was Carlos, she'd found out. Cruella's son. He had a strong alliance with Maleficent's daughter. And he was smart. Smarter than anyone on the Isle had the right to be. She started moving in the other direction, only to bump into someone she'd never seen before- quite a feat on the Isle of the Lost.

He had a sturdy build, like her, and dark hair and skin she associated with those cast out from _Agrabah_. Next to him, there was a girl so pretty she might have been an angel. She had blue hair, the colour of the darkest night, and pale skin. She smiled at Gizelle, and for a second Gizelle smiled back she lowered her guard. And then her spoils were gone, and the boy was laughing with Carlos.

"_Voleur!"_ she shouted after him, "_Putain!"_

They just laughed.

Gizelle was twelve when she met the Core Four for the first time.

* * *

A girl lay on a broken bed, the frame creaking and rusting, the mattress worn through. She was curled in on herself, coughing and hacking up blood. She wore thick clothes to keep out the chill, but they were ineffective. She was dying. Her hair was falling out in clumps, and she had a bleeding nose. Her teeth were rotting and her nails were brittle. She cradled her womb, extreme pain ripping through her every few seconds. There was no muscle on her body, and when she spoke, the words scraped her throat like sandpaper on bark.

"_Ne pleure pas, petit frère. Il montre la faiblesse. Mais tu es plus fort que le père. Je connais,"_ a figure creeped out from behind the door. He was growing into his ears, and there were tear stains down his face. He came as close to the bed as he dared, not willing to catch what she had, "_Je vais chercher papa. Vous avez besoin de médicaments."_

She shook her head weakly, eyes closing. She coughed some more, and blood spotted the thin blanket she curled under. Her shoulders hunched, and her yellowing skin pulled taunt against her bones, "_Je suis passé à sauver."_

She stilled for a second, and then her eyes shot open, "_Travailler avec eux. Ils sont dangereux. La fille de Maleficent. Le fils de Cruella." _Her eyes dulled and closed.

Gizelle was thirteen when she died.


	47. Envy: Chapter 9

_Of the line Hook_

There was only one school on the Isle. The halls were opened onto the street, allowing any stranger into the school. The walls were covered in so many layers of graffiti that no one could see the original brick. Except for when it came to four very specific tags. A fae queen, a genie, a succubus and a madwoman marked the halls, the words '_Long Live Evil'_ curling around them like tendrils of smoke. The concrete floors were splattered with what looked like blood. A closer inspection would indicate that it _was_ blood and that it was fresh. Teenagers and children alike hung around the block, blowing smoke into the sky and _leering_ at each other.

There was a shriek from one of the classrooms, and a cold laugh echoed. The intelligent ones left the quad, scampering into classrooms and out of the school. And then _they _appeared.

One wouldn't think that the four teens that come out of the classroom were dangerous. There were two boys and two girls, and only one of them had any factor of physical intimidation. He stood with his arms crossed, sleeves covering all but the tips of his tattoos, which poked out along his wrists. He stood behind the other boy, the pale one with light hair, who was wearing a black and red leather jacket and had a piercing hooked into his lower lip. He held the hand of the girl who wore royal blue- well, everything. Even her hair was blue. She wore big, clunky jewellery. It looked like costume jewelry if anyone had to hazard a guess, but the gems in the centrepieces shone only as objects infused with magick can.

The last member reeked of such magick, long purple hair braided in a crown around her skull, green eyes lighting their way out of the school. _She_ wore ripped jeans and heeled boots, with a mauve top cut so low one could almost see her navel. Her teeth were the just-slightly-sharp of the fae, just like the blue girl had the red lips and shining allure of a succubus, or the strong boy had the dark skin of the middle east._  
But if one were to look closer, to look at her Ib (the Egyptian words make little sense, but they had the idea of souls down to a tee) they would see that her heart was a tainted black. Making deals with Death (AnubisHadesAzrealHelPluto) would do that to you._

On the other side of the street, a young woman smoked a cigarette and leaned against a fence that proclaimed '_CAUTION: ELECTRIC'_ in large, bold letters. The fence had been out since she was in school. A wisp of smoke drifted out of her mouth, and she cracked one eye open. Evie (_AnaelVenusAphroditeFreyaHathorConquest_) stood in front of her. She was beautiful, that the rumours got right. She wore a short skirt and a thin blouse and a necklace (_that was a collar that was a claim_) with an amethyst on the pendant. She smiled at Helena (for that was the smoking girl's name- Helena Hook, daughter of Captain Hook of the Neverland Pirates) and took her hand, leading her through the cobbled alleyways, never once misplacing the thin heel of her stiletto. Eventually, they found an alley that was dark enough, or hidden enough, or just far enough for Evie's taste, and then it was fast and passionate. Their shirts dropped and their skirts were hiked up and jeans were unbuttoned and their mouths were sealed together and their teeth were clashing and it was over before it even began, Helena bracing herself against the bricks and her fingers clutching at nothing.

Then Carlos (_LokiHermesMercuryGabrielPestilenceSet)_ was at the edge of the alley, calling the _angel_ in front of her, and Evie grabbed a shirt that wasn't hers and left her skirt slightly skewed and ran, winking back at Helena only once before leaving her behind completely.

_At that moment, although she didn't recognise it, her life force shone that much brighter, and at that moment, she was not Helena Hook, but she was PakhetSifJunoHeraIsis. And they (because they were they, they were so many people, goddesses worshipped and women born of pain and strength)._

* * *

Some days later (and Helena wasn't certain it _was_ days, the only indication of time passing was her father shouting and the dropping level of whiskey in the bottle) she was at the market, and there were new rolls of recoloured fabric hanging from the stalls, mostly-fresh produce and partially broken furniture. There were small, dirty children dashing between patrons and stealing small change.

And then they were there, their presence overwhelming, their scent of smoke and salt and magick and death permeating the air. They were beautiful and unique and they burned brighter than any star in the sky.

And he was watching them, the last one, the one with the strong presence of War (_and MichealAresMarsHorusThor_) and he was pretty, she guessed, and she could see why _every_ girl in the school gushed about him, and his muscles, and his eyes and his tattoos, but she preferred something softer, something more feminine, something like- something like _that_.

Evie stood at one of the stalls, except she wasn't paying attention to the stall's goods, she was paying attention to the purple-haired _fae_ that was kissing up her neck, who was spinning Helena's angel around and kissing her, hard and fierce and they were beautiful (_objectively, Helena could see that, but Juno was screaming in her head about unfaithfulness, and Sif was crying for Thor, who was so close but would never see her the way he saw Anael and Azreal, and Isis was screaming for her son, for Horus, and Helena's head was so full she thought she was going to split in two_). And there was something _wet_ on Helena's cheek, and you don't _cry_ on the Isle of the Lost, so she turned and left.

And Death smirked against Conquest's neck.

" _I win."_


	48. Envy: Chapter 10

_Of the Southern Isles_

A devastatingly attractive boy lay on a cramped bed. He was _that_ boy, with dark, dark eyes that pierced people's souls, with high cheekbones and a scattering of freckles. He had dark, thick hair that had a reddish hue in the right light. Thick eyebrows framed his eyes, and the slightest of stubble crawled along the edges of his jaw. He had strong veins, flowing down his neck into broad shoulders and a heavy collarbone. To put it simply, he was pretty, and he knew it.

The bed he lay on wasn't small, no. It could have easily fit two people. And there was the problem. It was accommodating three.

The two women he was sharing the bed with were completely wrapped in each other, so much that they might have been ignoring him if it wasn't for a stray hand crawling along his leg and the second girl's back pressed up flat against his chest. But the two girls continued their fierce, almost angry kissing, locking themselves together at the lips, hands wandering up and down and under and over, but never stopping, not even for a second. And as the two girls continued their ministrations on each other, the pretty boy grew steadily more pale, the blood and life in him running through his body and directly to the hand of the first girl, the one with blue hair.

When his eyes unfocused and his breathing grew faint, he eventually spoke up.

"Stop," he coughed out, his chest heaving and a small trail of blood leaking from his nose. "_Stop,_" he wheezed, but no sound came out until he ripped himself away from the hands of the blue-haired girl with eyes like diamonds and lips of blood. Immediately, his colour started returning, his eyes focusing and his nosebleed drying up. The two girls frowned at him.

"_You agreed to this," _the first girl said, her skin vibrant with the energy she'd siphoned off the boy. "_I agreed to help you out, not to dying so that you and your girlfriend could get your kicks. What the fuck are you_?" The girl smiled at him, but not in the beautiful way she had when she'd invited him to bed. This time, her smile was violent, _bloodthirsty_.

"_You're smart. I didn't expect that from you. Usually, the pretty ones are the dumbest, if you know what I mean_." She smiled again, beautiful and deadly, "_You ever hear of a succubus, Hayden?"_

Everyone on the Isle had heard of a succubus. Violent, bloodthirsty women who sucked the life out of you in sexual contact. But in all his time, he'd only ever heard of _one_ monogamous succubus. He bowed his head in deference, "_Queen Evie."_

And now the blue-haired girl- a succubus, a queen- smiled with a _joy_ few ever feel. Being recognised as a _queen_ sent sparks down her spine. Her smile stretched her mouth, and the smallest drop of blood trailed from her lips, from a puncture where her lover had bitten her. She raised a hand to the corner of her mouth and wiped it away, licking the drop off her finger. Her lover had positioned herself to better see the conversation between Hayden and Evie. Her long, dark hair fell away from her face, and Hayden gulped. Because lying half-naked in his bed was _Mal le Fay_, undisputed ruler of the Isle and Fae Queen, the woman who had walked into the Coward's Market, stepped onto a makeshift platform and announced that from now on, everyone on the Isle of the Lost answered to _her_ or died, and then killed one hundred people in cold blood to prove her point. The woman his father hated with every fibre in his body.

He shouldn't deny her- she would kill him.

"_Make a deal with me," _he rasped, the breath scraping past his lungs, "_I'll be a constant source of energy, but don't kill me now." _A perfectly sculpted eyebrow quirked up, "_Or we could kill you now, and get a new body later. What's in it for us?_" He was negotiating with the Queens about why they should make out while touching him on a regular basis. The kings would probably kill him without a thought. But he continued, "_You wouldn't incur the wrath of my father." _And then the queens laughed, one airy and light, the other deep and throaty, " _all of the villains are full of __**wrath**__. They all answer to us, even if they don't know it." _

"_You wouldn't have to explain the disappearances to your m- to Maleficent. She expects you to keep track of everyone on the Isle. Soon she'll figure it out."_ The queens nodded and actually seemed to be thinking it through. Time to bring out the big guns, " _I'll give you the location of Maleficent's staff." _

Queen Mal's eyes snapped open, her voice dropped in temperature, "_You'll tell us the location of the staff anyway," _she commanded, eyes like ice and face stony, "_how did you even get that?" _She was angry, that much was obvious, but she was also impressed. He shrugged from his position on the floor, "_Bought it off Felicia. Figured it would come in handy one day."_

"_What was her price?" _she was trying to find out if it was worth less than what he was offering- or asking for. Well, he'd be honest, "_The usual. Ten years' service. I figured it was worth it." _Mal's smile curved wickedly, and he wondered what he'd given her. He didn't ask {he wasn't sure he wanted to know}. There was a brief silence. Then Mal nodded satisfactorily and stood up, gathering up her clothing and dressing.

* * *

A devastatingly broken boy lay on an empty bed. He was _that_ boy, with dark, dark eyes that pierced people's souls, but now, his eyes were faded, unfocused. This skin was pale, but slowly regaining colour. His Adam's apple bobbed and he pinched the bridge of his nose. A note was crumpled in his fist, the first letter of an elegant script peeking out.

_The Iron Palace, 2300h. Don't be late. Bring gifts._


	49. Envy: Chapter 11

_Of the line Ratcliffe_

Coward's Market was silent as the grave. Every stall was empty, bereft of goods and owners alike (there are very few people on the Isle of the Lost who are dumb enough to leave sellable goods out in the open). A child ran across the square, its dirty, bare feet hitting the cobblestones hard as it ran for cover, dragging a headless ragdoll behind it. The first, hard raindrops of an oncoming storm hit the pavement, but the clouds did not immediately burst after that. Rather, the few drops dried up and left a still-empty market, everyone afraid of the damage that came from a few short minutes in the rain.

A high-pitched giggle echoed from a corner of the market, bouncing of corrugated iron stalls and polyester roofs. The few stalls that were made of brick and wood and cement seemed to curl in on themselves, seemed to try and take up less fountain in the square's centre, which had stopped running when Neverland was renamed the Isle of the Lost, and which had been cracked since King Beast had proclaimed that the Isle would receive no help from Auradon, seemed to crack further, new lines running down Tiger Lily's ear and cheek.

A girl with purple hair falling over her shoulders and curling behind her ear strolled into the square, green eyes flashing with hatred and excitement alike. She glared around the empty market, daring anyone brave enough to come out, to challenge her.

No one stirred.

The girl's name was Mal Morgana le Fay, and she was a truthseeker, with the sharp ears and teeth of the fae creatures that flitted through Coward's Market on a good day.

Another girl, with a thin, rattish face and pale hair and eyes followed the first's movements. '_Scum,'_ the voices hissed, angry and clanging in her head, '_Filth. Inhuman.'_ She continued to watch the fae girl with unpassionate human eyes. She couldn't feel _close_ to the level of emotion that burned through the fae girl, bright and hot. In fact, she couldn't feel much at all.

Her name was Gianna Ratcliffe, and she was racist. She had been raised on the Isle of the Lost, and her daddy hated savages.

What happened next happened so fast one wouldn't have seen it if one wasn't supernatural in _some_ aspect, although Gianna only thought about it much later (under the brunt of her daddy's fists and hard lessons). Mal dashed towards the hiding spot of the child, grabbing the ragdoll it had been dragging around earlier and smashing her cigarette butt into its clothing until they caught alight, then tossed it behind her, leaving it in a smouldering heap. She brought the cigarette up to her lips and took a long drag, cool and collected, as if nothing had happened (and to the child, nothing had. They'd had their doll, and now they didn't. It was that simple). The voices came again, louder and more persistent, '_Arrogant bitch. Obnoxious harlot. Fascist cunt.'_

They grew louder and louder, hissing and clamouring in her skull, sending vibrations through her body, making her shiver and drawing the eyes of Mal le Fay, fifteen and vicious. The fae girl raised an eyebrow, critically examining her challenger before going back to her cigarette, eyes roving the market, looking for a gift to bring home to her _queen_.

The fury that built up in Gianna at being ignored by this insignificant _fairy_ was more than any human could possibly take. She leapt out from her 'hiding' spot, flying into an attack, golden dagger ready {really, it was tin _painted_ gold, but the greed of the Ratcliffes would never diminish}. The Queen only looked up from her exercise when the pale girl who was _so, so angry_ barrelled past her, blind in rage (and awful at fighting {she wasn't trained like Lei or Alice or Hayley}). The brawl that followed was fast and painful (for one party). Mal kicked when her opponent was down, Gianna learnt that. She also stepped on one's ribs and broken bones. She left Gianna Ratcliffe in a bloody, dirty mess ('_Where you belong,'_ the voices hissed, '_if you can't beat second-rate pixie'_).

* * *

When Gianna woke up again, Coward's Market was filled as if it had never happened. Children ran across the square, climbing up Tiger Lily's back, played hopscotch on the jagged cobblestones and practised the thievery that would come in so handy later in their lives on the Isle. Every stall was back to how it had been before the storm, almost as if it had never happened (much, _much_ later, Gianna realised that it _hadn't_. The Market had cleared in the wake of Queen Mal of the Isle of the Lost, terrified of her anger. Following her _instructions_. Allowing her to teach Gianna a _lesson_ {and Gianna had had far too many _lessons_ from her daddy. She didn't need one from a _freak bitch_ that wasn't even _human_}).

Gianna's legacy on the Isle of the Lost was crawling a trail of blood through Coward's Market, bright red and angry. Her legacy was the first that Mal punished for insulting the Queen, but certainly not the last. Her legacy was grovelling in front of the Iron Court, fearing for her life and scared out of her wits.

Gianna's legacy was the scars running down her face, directly parallel to the cracks down Tiger Lily's stone cheek, carved into her face by _High Queen Mal the Powerful_.

Gianna's legacy on the Isle was her own punishment, not the punishment she doled out to others on account of their race.


	50. Envy: Chapter 12

_Of the line of Hearts_

_Purgatory. Asphodel. Niflheim. The Duat. Limbo. The Waiting Room. The Underland._

_There was a house on a hill._

_And in that house lay a baby._

_And that baby was screaming and crying._

_And her mother ignored her._

_Downing another Aspirin and a quarter bottle whiskey._

_And that baby's name was Alice._

_(Not __**the **__Alice)._

_And her daddy lived in the house next door._

_And he was mad._

_(Off his rocker)._

_And he'd sneak into the house when the moon was full._

_And her mother was off playing Russian Roulette._

_And he'd whisper to the little girl._

"_Alice. Alice. Alice, why'd you leave?"_

"_Alice. Alice. Alice, where are you?"_

"_Alice. Alice. Alice, I think I'm going mad!"_

"_Alice. Alice. Alice, why'd you leave?"_

_And the baby would gurgle._

_And start to whine._

_And he'd drip drops of tea into her mouth._

_(Drip drip drip)._

_He was the Hatter._

_Yes, yes, yes he was._

_And his mind_

_Went around and around_

_In circles and circles_

_He was __**nuts**__._

_Completely __**mad**_

_Yes, he was_

_Completely off his rocker._

_How __**wonderful**__._

_And she was the __**same**__._

_How __**wonderful**__._

_And when the time came._

_And mummy sent her off to kill the Hatter._

_She had tea and biscuits with her._

_And they ate like old friends._

_Before she __**cut off his head**__._

_The Last Supper._

_How poetic._

_And she and Gianna were best friends._

'_Cause they were both __**mad**__._

_And Alice._

_(Not __**the**_ _Alice)._

_Saw __**Death**_ _break her friend._

_And she __**giggled**__._

_How __**awful**__._

_How __**evil**__._

_And __**Pestilence**_ _came up to her one afternoon._

"_Good morning."_

_He said._

"_Good Morning, Alice."_

"_I'd like you to kill someone for me."_

"_Her name is Elizabeth. She's pregnant."_

_And Alice._

_(Not __**the**_ _Alice)._

_Brought Elizabeth tea and biscuits._

_Before she __**cut off her head**__._

_Massacre of the Innocents._

_How poetic._

_And her mama came up to her, late one evening._

_And she said.`_

"_Alice"_

_(Not __**the**_ _Alice)._

"_Dear Alice"_

"_You're such a big girl now."_

"_Won't you kill for me?"_

"_Kill Shere Khan, who stalks the Underland, won't you?"_

_So Alice took Red tea._

_(Cause she kinda liked him)._

_(And tigers don't drink tea)._

_(Hares do)._

_And she found his dad._

_Deep in his cave._

_And she __**cut off his head**__._

_But he came back._

_And now Alice._

_(Not __**the **__Alice)._

_Has claw marks across her stomach and her leg._

_Because she was playing with Red._

_(Playing with __**fire**__)._

_And one day._

_Early in the morning._

_**Conquest**_ _came in quietly._

_And __**kissed**_ _her hard._

_It was nice, Alice guessed._

_(Tea was nicer)._

_And she said._

"_Alice."_

"_Sweet, pretty Alice."_

"_Won't you die for me?"_

"_Won't you kiss me some more"_

_And Alice._

_(Not __**the **__Alice)._

_Nodded._

_And they kissed some more._

_Until she was pale and weak._

_The Kiss._

_(And Dante's Inferno)._

_How poetic._

_And then her mama came into the room._

"_Alice!"_

_She shrieked._

"_Alice! That's the queen!"_

_And Alice_

_(Not __**the**_ _Alice)._

_Looked up._

_And she said._

"_Yes, mama. I know."_

_And she looked to __**Conquest**__._

"_Would you like some tea?"_

_Baby Alice was completely __**nuts**__._

_And one day._

_(Time had slipped past her)._

_Alice._

_(Not __**the**_ _Alice)._

_Got to sit on a throne._

_And she had tea and biscuits and jam tarts._

_(The Duchess of Hearts who ate some Tarts)._

_Got to shout and scream._

_And the Queen of Hearts._

_Lay in the stocks._

_And __**off with her head**__._

_How poetic._


	51. Envy: Chapter 13

_Of the line Shan_

A girl stood against a brick wall outside Coward's Market. Above her head curled furious green fire and the words _The Dragon Shall Rise Again_ in deep violet. A katana was sheathed against her back, and her lip was split. Her clothing was pristine, but there were light bruised splayed across her skin. Shrieks drifted from the market, but she remained in her position, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket and lighting one, pressing it against her lips. Her name was Shan Lei, and she was the thunder of the hummed a tuneless song as she blew out a cloud of smoke.

Eventually, the screams seemed to subside, and a boy fell through the fence of barbed wire. He looked to be roughly the girl's age, and he had a bruise blossoming against his pale cheekbone. His eyes were bloodshot and his nails bitten ragged with shredded cuticles. Shan Lei scoffed and left her cigarette between her lips while reaching down to pull the boy up. He rolled his eyes but took her hand anyway.

"No comments from you." Lei raised her eyebrows and mimed sealing her lips. She smirked at him and headed towards the outside of town, motioning for him to follow her. She turned a corner, and when he followed her, she wasn't there anymore.

"He'd already left the brawl by the time you'd arrived, you know that, right?" Her voice echoed down from her perch atop a tin roof. The boy sat down where he was, dropping his head into his palm and rolling his eyes.

"Of course I know. _King_ Carlos isn't one to hang around and watch the chaos he causes. He leaves that to his _queen_," the biting sarcasm in his voice had Lei narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips. "Be careful with what you say, GJ. They say the kings and queens have ears everywhere." GJ stuck out his tongue at his companion, "Who even cares? Not like they can do anything to me. They already beat me bloody. They _killed _Gizelle. There is nothing they can do to me anymore. So I'll say what I want. Fuck them."

Lei hopped down from her vantage point, winking at him and starting to run, leaving her partner behind. GJ didn't follow. He wasn't completely stupid. He knew _some_ things and the fact that the Huns' grounds were completely and utterly _no man's land_ if you weren't born a Hun.

* * *

Two six-year-olds sat next to each other, playing a game of pat-a-cake. They giggled together and fell backwards, lying on the grass, staring at each other through the blades. A shadow loomed over them, and the first girl stood up. The second one, the skinnier one, continued to lie on the grass {_God, would she regret that_}. The large man who was casting the shadow locked his hand around the standing girl's neck.

"Stand up, Lei. You were late for training." Lei looked stricken and hastened to follow his instructions. But when she did, he remained frowning and did not remove his hand. The little girl bit her lip and her eyes started to tear up when they linked with her sister's. They'd both known that something would happen if Lei missed her training, but normally he would just refuse to give them dinner. His younger daughter (by three minutes) was unused to the pain he was inflicting on her and tried to gasp for mercy, but he just tightened his fist. Lei, realising what was happening, flew at him, trying to put a stop to her sister's pain, but her ire seemed to not affect Shan Yu in the slightest. He just held her away with one arm, turning her head to watch her sister lose her colour, and then her pulse. Lei sobbed, louder and louder, pleading with her father to _just let go_ {_please. Please! Kill me instead. She's better than me. Let me die!_}.

Hopeless. Shan Yu stared his daughter down while he left the _other _one's corpse on the floor of the field, "Come. Now, Lei! We're behind as it is." With one last, pained glance toward her sister's still body, Lei followed her commander. Vowing to return.

* * *

A rotting corpse lay in a meadow. It was laden with flowers and held a teddy bear in its hand. One of the bear's eyes were missing, and there was a slit along its stomach where the stuffing was spilling out. A young woman stood next to the corpse, anger filling her eyes with tears that silently dropped off her cheeks. _Show no weakness_. She held the sword that had previously been strapped across her back in both hands above the corpse, the tip _just_ touching the chest of the body. The woman's head was held high, the hair cut short, and her eyes were black. She glanced back at the man behind her, whose eyes were cold and arms were crossed. He nodded at her once, eyes narrowed, and went back to watching silently, leaning against a nearby tree.

In one smooth motion, the woman lifted her sword and plunged it down into her sister's corpse, the sword going all the way through the body and lodging itself in the ground beneath her.

Shan Lei turned and left.


	52. Envy: Chapter 14

_Of the line Gothel_

There was a well-furnished tower on the Isle of the Lost. Just the one- towers were uncommon enough as they were on the Isle of the Lost, considering the fact that _everything_ on the Isle was castoff from Auradon, and _everything_ was built from scratch. So there were very few towers on the Isle of the Lost. Fact. There was only one that had any _good_ furniture in it. Fact. It belonged to Mother Gothel. Fact.

The room, for it was one room, was beautiful. It had a thick carpet that spanned the entire floor, soft as clouds and red as blood. There were thick curtains that hung across the windows, keeping out any and all sunlight that could possibly be brave enough to cross the threshold. A three-year-old girl lay on the floor, her hair crawling down to the bottom of her back. She was beautiful. Opinion.

The girl's name was Miranda Gothel, and she would lie in her mother's tower, humming to herself, her eyes shining with knowledge and an ethereal spirit. She was _Raziel_, she was _Athena_ and _Minerva_ and _Mímir_ and _Thoth_, and she was so much more than the Isle of the Lost could ever hold.

The door opened and two women walked through. One was elderly- she used a walking stick and her hair was grey, and her spine creaked as she walked next to a woman who stood strong and tall in black and red and white, a woman with two-toned hair and a nine-year-old boy trailing behind her, clothing falling off his body and cigarette burns scarring his collarbone. His hair was frosted white and a thin line of blood trickled from a gash under his left eye. The right side of his face was bruised and swollen, a sickly yellow colour. All of that was done to him by his mother. Fact. She was evil. Opinion.

The boy was Carlos, but he would be more than that, Miranda could _see_ it. He would be a _god_, in all rights. He was her brother and her enemy in their different lives, but now, he was a friend, and she would be his advisor, as was her role in this life. He would be a Lover and a King and a General in different lives, but in this life, he would be _all _of those things. And she would be his guide. She stood up and toddled over to him in all her three-year-old {_and millennia old_} wisdom, and clutched onto him. She couldn't reach much higher than his midriff, but she clung to him until he looked over at his mother. With her consent, he sat down next to Miranda. He didn't talk much (read: at all), but she just smiled at him and handed him the strip of ribbon that had fallen off her dress. He pulled a needle and thread from the lapel and sewed it back together, silently.

She babbled on quietly, sitting still as trained by her mother {_haemophilia is a real condition, baby girl. I don't ever want you to get hurt_}, '_You're really smart, Carlos, you could be an en-gin-eer'_ she enunciated carefully, '_And mother thinks so too, said you could break the barrier, y'know. How great would that be? Then we could all be free, in Auradon, and everything would be good.'_

Carlos froze in his actions of tying the string together. He turned to her slowly. Their mothers' chatter faded into the background. He leaned into her, so that their foreheads touched, and whispered softly to her, '_You can't say that, Miranda. Not now, not here, not ever. Maleficent's daughter preparing something big. Everything will change, and there will be no place for Auradon sympathisers_ _in her world. Be careful, Miranda.'_ The three-year-old just smiled brightly at him. Her gaze wandered over to her mother, who was now sitting in her rocking chair, and Carlos' mother who was blowing her smoke out through the open window that was always left open "to encourage Miranda's lungs".

"_It's okay. You'll be on Morgana's side, so I'll be fine,'_ a smile quirked on Carlos' face, but his brows furrowed, '_How do you see that? I've never even spoken to her. I've only ever seen her when mamman goes to visit Maleficent.' _The three-year-old just rolled her eyes fondly, as if she were a grandmother imparting worldly advice on her unruly grandchild, '_You'll get there, Carlos. When the evil queen's daughter comes to you, then the pattern will start again. And the pattern has echoed through the aeons, and it will happen again.'_

She smiled again, and her self-assuredness seeped in to warm him, '_Trust the pattern, Carlos. Azael, Anael, Michael, Gabriel, they trusted the pattern. Mercury, Pluto, Venus, Mars. All of them knew that the pattern would play out as it was supposed to. They all listened, to Minerva, to Raziel, to Mímir. Trust the pattern, Carlos. The universe has a plan.'_

* * *

A thirteen-year-old Miranda stared out of the window of a different tower, this one _far_ more luxurious than the one she'd spent most of her youth in. She sat on a pile of pillows, underneath the blanket propped up by a pole. A _fort_, protection against the outside world, against the thoughts that pushed against her brain, the knowledge trying to get in. The sky was pitch black, but for the spires of flame rising from Auradon. There were always flames rising from the remnants of Auradon, but usually, she didn't appreciate them. The world sparkled in her eyes, and the stars shone in her thoughts.

The door creaked open, and Loki came in. He crawled into the fort next to her and lay back. His voice floated up to her, soft and strong, '_You were right. The pattern has completed. And to think that there was a time when I didn't know of the power of the pattern. I was foolish.'_

'_You were a boy. You changed with the world. You didn't need to know the specifics of the pattern.'_ He smiled at her, and barked out a laugh, '_You knew. You were younger than I was. Still are, actually. But you knew.'_

'_I was your counsellor, your guidance. I knew, Loki, because I had to. I had to spark the pattern.'_


	53. Envy: Chapter 15

_Of the line Medusa_

Downtown was _ugly_. It was dirt and despair and corpses, it was run-down boutiques and houses built out of corrugated iron. It was roofs made of plastic bags and held down by was houses for a family of five consisting of one room. It was foul water and muddy streets and barbed wire fences. Downtown was bars that were robbed nightly, it was drunkards in midday and it was _furious_ upper class beating its inhabitants to the ground. It was bruises and blood and pain. It was cleaning cuts with whiskey and sewing them together with dental floss, it was weeks of starvation and it was parents who didn't know you existed {_Asim, Mikhail, Khadijah, Icarus_}. It was a pain to pay the bills and the debts your parents owed, it was hard-won mouldy food and it was _submissiveness_.

_Madame Medusa's Pawn Shop and Boutique_ was hideous. It sold animal skins, odd magickal items, and broken technology. It sold old food and it sold the services of Alice {_not __**the**_ _Alice_}. It sold small charms on behalf of Felicia, and it sold animal bones and broken gemstones for those who wanted to craft their own charms. It was held together by duct tape and the will of Mikhail Medusa. It had a front room and a back room; he slept in the back room, surrounded by odd pieces of stock that he couldn't leave out because of their value {_whether it was too high or too low, it ended up in the back room_}. The backroom had a mattress with springs popping out and stuffing spilling across the floor, and it had two wooden chairs that looked as if they'd been made in 1910.

As was generally the case, those chairs were currently occupied by none other than Dimitri and Astoria Tremaine, who were kissing fiercely. They'd probably retire to his mattress soon, Mikhail thought, even though he'd warned them _time _and _time_ again not to use his bed for sex. They didn't seem to really care what he thought.

But then again, they paid him a good dollar every time they came through his door, so he didn't really have the place to complain. He owed Felicia Facilier so much he could work for the rest of ten lifetimes and still owe her millions. _Madame_ Medusa had struck up a deal with the voodoo practiser, and she expected her son to get her out of the _hundreds_ of years of service she _accidentally_ owed the African-American woman.

So the Tremaines would use his bed for sex, and he'd extort every customer ringing the bell on the way into the Pawn Shop, and the Kings and Queens would ignore him, because they were so far above his station they likely didn't even know he existed {_soon, he would eat his words_}. That was lie in downtown, and yeah, it was shit, but it was still better than life in the Underland.

_By far_.

* * *

Uptown wasn't beautiful, not in any form or shape. It was brick-faced buildings and chipped cobblestone streets, it was cracks in the barrier just because of the sheer _power_ that collected in the area. It was Coward's Market and underground intelligence. It was spies for the Iron Court, it was the fear of the fae in your _bones_, it was fights and dancing and singing and mockery. It was classier alcohol and more dangerous drunks. It was blood staining velvet and it was trading in magicks. It was the Isle school and it was feigned class. And it was far, far more dangerous than downtown.

That was certainly because of the woman who now walked down the street towards the Pawn Shop. She was beautiful and deadly. She was pale, her skin had always missed the sun that was blocked by the rain clouds hovering over the Isle of the Lost. Her lips were pale pink, and her eyes were blue and wide, betraying false innocence. Men would {_and had_} die for her without a second thought, just so those big eyes of hers wouldn't tear up, and they wouldn't think it out of the ordinary.

Tonight, she had a mission.

She silently slipped into Madame Medusa's, taking care _not_ to ring the bell. She didn't want to alert _anyone _to her presence. She started to search the shop, slowly and quietly, but her searching grew more frantic when she couldn't find the object she searched for. Mikhail stepped into the shadows of the

'_I need that shell,'_ she whispered, unaware of her audience. Her searching became more frantic and her care to not alert anyone seemed to disappear. Her brow was furrowed and she bit her lip, ransacking the drawers behind the counter, '_Mamma can't find out, she'll __**kill**_ _me. I swear to god if she says __**anything**__-'_

The girl froze and turned to Mikhail's hiding spot. He arranged his face into a suitable smirk and stepped out from the shadows, head held high. He had something over this girl- Queen Evie, Queen Regnant over the Isle of the Lost. There wasn't a price in the world that could compare to _that_. The Queen's face was impassive, but fury sparked behind her eyes, even he could see that. Whether it was at him or herself, he didn't know. He wasn't sure finding out would be a good thing.

'_Hey baby,'_ her voice lowered and somehow became _more_ beautiful than it had been, '_I heard you had some really powerful stock here. Ursula's necklace, huh? That's really impressive. You don't think you could show me, do you?'_ And he was so, so tempted, because he would _die_ for this beautiful woman in an instant, but something was _wrong_. He knew that much. _Why _should he die for her? He didn't even _know_ her.

Queen Evie watched, frustrated and bewildered, as this poor, pathetic _boy_ fought off the succubus' curse. Then his jaw clenched, and his face settled. _He wasn't going to give in_. Terrified though she was, Evie wasn't _dumb_. She had to act fast, or she'd be out of the shop and her mother's before the sun rose.

'_I request a service of you, as a Queen of the Isle. I need to silence a girl, permanently. But because of Mal's __**ridiculous**_ _law. I can't just kill her,'_ the Queen paused to roll her eyes in fondness, '_She's a direct Descendant. I need to silence Gianna Ratcliffe. She saw something she wasn't supposed to. And I need to do it before dawn.'_ The Queen stood straighter, threw her head up and her shoulders back, '_I have a contract, and a way to make her sign. I need Ursula's necklace.'_

'_Your mother's deep in debt, isn't she? And she expects you to dig her out?'_ Mikhail didn't even question how she knew that. The Iron Court knew _everything_. But if she could get him off the hook… well.

'_I can make so she won't remember the faintest possibility of being indebted. You won't have to do anything, and she'll still get what she deserves,'_ the Queen smiled at the wonder in the boy's eyes {_too easy_}. But she'd underestimated him.

'_You erase her memory, moved me and the Boutique to uptown, and I keep the necklace. I'll destroy her voice, but I keep the necklace.'_

The Queen's eyes raked over him, probably considering and weighing options. Then she gave a brief nod.

'_Deal.'_


	54. Envy: Chapter 16

_Of the line Phillips_

Sally-Anne Phillips _rarely_ ventured out into the rest of the Isle of the Lost. There were people who could _do_ things, things that weren't _normal_, according to her Daddy. There were pretty, pale girls who would kill you if they kissed you, and there were angry, dangerous girls with green eyes who could make _stuff_ happen. There were boys and girls who'd grant wishes, and _everyone_ was a killer. There were four, he whispered in the dead of night, when he _knew_ no one could hear him, that she _had_ to avoid at all costs if she ever went outside. He said that they were the children of the _worst_ villains, the sons of Cruella de Vil and Jafar, and the daughter of the Evil Queen. He told her their stories, and she'd stayed awake for weeks, terrified of the shadows and the stories {_but they weren't stories, she knew those people, she'd seen them in the streets_}. But the one her Daddy always warned her against, the one he said was the _most_ dangerous, was the daughter of Maleficent. She was a _fairy_, said her Daddy. She was powerful and she could make you do things you didn't want to, and she was temperamental, said her Daddy.

So Sally-Anne Phillips rarely ventured out into the streets of the Isle of the Lost. But today, she did. It was barge day, and everyone knew what that meant. It was the only time in the entire month when you could get whatever you needed, free of charge. It was the only opportunity Sally-Anne ever got to leave the house, so she grabbed at it {_her Daddy hated barge day. He hated seeing the villains he'd grown up with in storybooks, hated being reminded that he was considered to be one of them_}.

The roads of the Isle of the Lost {_Neverland, her Daddy sometimes called it, when he thought she wasn't listening. Sally-Anne didn't understand why_} were small and run-down and crowded. People pushed and jostled from every angle, trying to get to the barge first, trying to get the best of the pick. So Sally-Anne didn't even take note when a hand strayed somewhere it wasn't supposed to or when her bra clasp snapped.

She should have.

* * *

When Sally-Anne woke up, she almost started crying right there. She was sore all over, and she couldn't see through one eye. Bite marks on her _thighs _stang, and there were bruises on her breasts. She staggered up, and a thin trickle of blood {_and something else_} ran down her thighs. Her white dress was torn and stained yellow and red, and she had no bra or underwear. And she had no recollection of what happened. There were several men in the street, all her father's age, _at least_. They eyed her hungrily- as if she were a piece of meat, or something _less_. She _hated_ it. She tried to hold what was left of her dress over her body, trying to remember where she was and how to get home.

One of the men came up to her, but he looked nicer than the others. He must've been roughly twenty, but he was kind. He picked her up and carried her to his house, offering a dress {_he didn't say who it had belonged to, and she didn't ask_} and a bowl of soup. He was soft and sweet and gave her a bath and a bed for the night.

* * *

When she woke up again, he was lying behind her, _in the same bed_. His body was pressed flush against her, and he held her tightly so that she couldn't escape. His mouth left wet kisses on her neck, and he started slowly rocking against her. She scrunched her eyes closed and begged for it to be over.

The next morning, he wasn't in her bed, and everything _looked_ alright, but she felt dirtier than ever, and something sticky leaked between her legs.

She escaped the house in the next few minutes, running faster than she ever had in her life.

And she was running, running, trying to find a way _out_, trying to follow the signs that made no sense, trying to recognise something, _anything_. She ran and ran, with no direction, until she hit another group of three men. She scrambled back, begging, pleading, _praying_ that they'd just let her go. And they did. Sort of.

A beautiful girl appeared. Her eyes were a brighter green than Sally-Anne had ever seen in her life, and the air crackled around her. She smelt like smoke and spray paint, even from across the street. She wore all leather and metal, and her neck was laden with necklaces. She growled under her breath, scattering the three men far and wide. Her eyes appraised Sally-Anne, and suddenly she knew. This was _Maleficent's Daughter_. She nodded as if she'd found something that satisfied her, and left. Sally-Anne was left lying in the street, covered in dust, but alive. And alone.

* * *

There were four rules on the Isle of the Lost, Sally-Anne {_recently dubbed 'Sal' by Queen Evie and her Kings_} soon learnt. They were simple, easy-to-follow, and you'd be in a _whole lot of pain_ if you broke them.

_1\. If you want it, take it._

Being nice got you nowhere, paying got you robbed. If you wanted something, you had to _make _it yours, by force or by niceties. Sal was _particularly_ good at that when she got better at using her looks to her advantage. Queen Evie taught her that, taught her to take _control _of what she was and how she looked, to turn what was once her weakness into her weapon.

_2\. If you can't take it, break it._

King Jay was usually the one who did that for her. If her charms and looks didn't work for her, she'd resort to stealing. If _that_ didn't work, she'd get into a fight. That was when King Jay came to her rescue. He'd _punch_ and _kick_ and _hurt_ until the person backed down. Then he'd hand her the item, giving her the option of keeping it {_dismissing the fight, allowing the owner to return to their stall without shame_} or breaking it {_inciting a feud, creating a rift between two alliances (hers always won)_}.

_3\. You need to not be yourself._

King Carlos taught her this one. Once, she'd ended up in Hell Hall with him, through a series of extremely long and complicated events. And he'd just… changed. He'd wilted, become less, hid in the shadows. He'd stopped remarking- stopped speaking- and just _agreed _with his mother, even when she was completely _wrong_ {_Maleficent did not, by any measure or degree run the Isle of the Lost. King Carlos did not make his mother aware of this fact_}.

_4\. You may not kill a Direct Descendant._

If you were locked in here because your parent was a villain {_if your parent had a 'hero'_}, you were a Direct Descendant. They were rare, and the Iron Court took it _very_ seriously when one was killed {_Gizelle's case went on for years_}. You didn't want to be on the wrong side of the Iron Court.


	55. Envy: Chapter 17

_Of the line Prestigia_

If people ever deigned to talk about it, they just called it _The Tank_. Once a year, the soldiers of Auradon would troop in, scoop all the inhabitants into what was basically just glorified _buckets_, and then replace the water. The rest of the time, she who lived in The Tank was simply left to _rot_ like common fish.

The Tank was inhabited by one woman- one very, _very_ dangerous woman. Ursula, Queen of the Sea {_or would-be, has-been, rather_} a woman who _constantly _craved her next meal, a woman who wasn't dumb enough to ask a _voodoo practiser_ for a spell {_after all, __**she'd**_ _once been a voodoo user, and she knew the kind of debt you'd get yourself into_} but _had_ had three wishes granted to her by a djinni- Jafar's son, Jay. The inhabitants of the Isle, those who weren't confined to The Tank, called him King Jay, but to her, he was just Jay. She wasn't under his rule, she wasn't under anyone's rule, because of The Tank {_secretly, she'd rather be under someone's rule than stuck in this blasted tank_}. Ursula was a woman who cooked for others- at Ursula's Fish and Chips {_you'll take it how I make it!_}- but a woman who always hungered for her next meal, because her diet was _slightly_ out of the ordinary.

Being confined to the tank meant she needed someone else to get it for her- and then that someone came along- Aaron, son of Ariel Ursula. He had red hair and legs that grew scaly when they touched the water of The Tank, but they were still _legs_, which was more than Ursula had. So when the djinn child, _Jay_, stumbled into her shop and she caught him _stealing_ {_her food! __**Her**_ _food! How __**dare**_ _he!_} she offered him silence in exchange for three wishes, _which he didn't know he could give her_ {_dumb child_}.

_One- _a potion to change Aaron's look, to make him _her_ son by blood.

_Two_\- a potion to sweeten his voice, to make it sultry and compelling and everything a _siren's_ voice _should_ be.

_Three_\- she could have wished for legs, but she was too _proud_ of her heritage, of _what _she was, so she wished for something else. For Aaron to _need_ to return to the water every twenty-four hours or risk _death_. That way, he _always_ came back.

But everything has a price, _especially_ on the Isle of the Lost, and that was true of the wishes she made as well.

_One_\- She cut off his pain receptors. He felt _nothing_, no matter what happened to him {_he felt no emotional pain either, but he never revealed that, not on the Isle. It was a secret strength of his_}.

_Two_\- She broke his lungs, and when he wasn't singing, he spoke in harsh, raspy whispers and broke into coughs and choked on thin air.

_Three_\- She made him _crave_ affection so desperately, it was almost like he was _good_ {_she stamped that out of him __**real**_ _quick_}.

* * *

The corner behind Ursula's Fish and Chips shop was frequented by teenage girls who were looking for a boy to spend the night with. Some of them never came home. Their parents didn't exactly _care_. Sometimes a boy would figure it out, and after more than three or four visits, he too would never come home. Such was the way of the Isle of the Lost. Some people went missing, some kids died, some kids killed. It was what it was.

Sometimes there was music playing out of the rusted speaker. The speaker had been installed on the Isle of the Lost by the Auradonians, and when they remembered, it would play old tunes of days long past. _Once Upon a Dream_ was a popular one, before Maleficent burnt down half the Isle to make it stop. _Someday My Prince Will Come_ and _Let It Go_ were most commonly played. But there was one that rarely made it onto the speaker, yet Uriah still knew it _off by heart_. The song consisted of vague memories of bright sunlight and a smiling woman with bright hair {_she brushed her hair with a fork, for some reason_}.

'_I want to be where the people are_

_I want to see_

_Want to see 'em dancing_

_Walking around on those_

_Whadd'ya call 'em? Oh, feet_

_Flipping your fins you don't get too far_

_Legs are required for jumping, dancing_

_Strolling along down a_

_What's that word again... Street'_

His voice was soft and enticing, and the girls all spun around, frantically trying to search out the sound. When they saw him, they were stunned. Hair with snow white roots and pure black tips, skin so light it was a pale _blue_, black clothing and lips so red he looked as though he may be Snow White's illegitimate son {_wrong hero_}. As he sang, he drew nearer, and his voice became so soft they had to lean in to hear it. He grabbed the most beautiful woman of them all {_she had nothing on the Queens, but she'd do_. _His mother insisted on her meals only being the __**finest**_} and he led her by the hand, slowly, still singing, into Ursula's.

Then all _Hell_ broke loose.

'_What are you singing?_' A voice screeched from The Tank, '_Are you singing __**her**_ _song?'_ The boy stopped singing and the girl froze, absolute _terror_ on her face. A startled squeak escaped her lips, but she was ignored. A tentacle slowly reached out of The Tank and wrapped around the boy's throat and he started coughing, '_You __**don't**_ _sing that song. Ever. You understand me, Uriah?'_

More coughing, more gasping for breath, more _pain_.

'_Yes, mother.'_

The tentacle retracted for a second, before grabbing the neck of the girl.

'_None for you.'_


	56. Sloth: Chapter 1

**Sloth: What They Didn't Do**

* * *

_The Barge_

The Court Room was beautiful, that much could be said without question. All oak pillars stands, allotted seats for every house decorated with extravagant crests. Velvet curtains pushed to the side of huge french windows, and two carved thrones made of wood and blue silk. But the centrepiece of the room wasn't any of that.

There was a table in the middle of the rectangular room. It, too, was made of oak, and it has a glass top embedded inside it. Beneath that glass top was a yellowing, extremely detailed map of the Isle of the Lost, in all its glory. The map had been drawn by Yen Sid, who had used magickal ink, and so it was far more than an ordinary map. At all times, this map knew the location of everyone on the Isle of the Lost and could give requested information and _video_ _footage_ of them if asked.

The map wasn't perfect, of course. Its data had to be updated once a month, when Yen Sid returned from the Isle to attend the Isle Court {_sometimes, it chilled him to the bone. The Isle Court was more sinister, more cruel, than the Iron Court, because they were bitter, but the Iron Court were just angry_}.

The Royal families started filtering in, one by one, some bringing in children (a three-year-old Audrey played outside with a three-year-old Ben {_somewhere on the Isle, a three-year-old Mal lay beaten, and a three-year-old Evie wore high heels, and a three-year-old Carlos couldn't speak a word_}) and other just bringing themselves, or their _hero_, or their spouse. All taking their brand new seats, sombre for the first-ever Isle Court. Unprepared to deal with their ugly pasts.

There was a system, to the seating of the Houses. The King and Queen took their thrones and altogether held about twelve votes, between the Noble and Ancient House of Beast (it had been renamed) and the Four Votes granted to them by right of conquest of the Noble House of LeGume. Next to them, at the same level, but not _quite _the Queen of Auradon, sat the representative only other Noble and Ancient House, Queen Elsa of Arendelle {_Twelve votes, excluding the votes of the Southern Isles_}.

Then sat the Baron Houses, Houses that were Noble _or _Ancient, but not both. The most prominent houses being the Ancient House of White {_eight votes, between Right of Conquest, and the votes of House White_} and the Noble House Rosiers and {_seventeen votes, between Prince Phillip, Briar Rose, the Right of Conquest, and the votes of the Moors_}. The Ancient Houses of Agrabah and Charming next to them, each holding eight votes. The Noble Houses Hercules, Fitzherbert, Triton and Maldonia each held five {_to the fury of Zeus, whose son spent three weeks calming him at the thought of __**his legacy**_ _not having more sway_}.

On the second tier from the bottom sat the Knighted Houses. House Fa, Rolfe and Radcliffe. Knighted for Notable Causes, and often holding Right of Conquest votes, but not… well, not _princes and princesses_, not _royal blood_, not what mattered here in Auradon.

A round 105 votes between the entire court. One hundred and five votes that determined _everything about the Isle of the Lost, and most of them belonged to Houses aligned with Briar Rose, and so she decided __**everything**_ _that happened to the Isle of the Lost._

_To Maleficent._

_To Maleficent's __**daughter**_.

* * *

"Calling the Isle Court to order!" King Adam's voice echoed across the chamber, "To order now, to order!"

The hall quieted down. The last of the Houses' representatives slipped into their seats, and then there was silence. The King cleared his throat and began a well-rehearsed (but badly thought out) speech.

"We, as the United States of Auradon, have always strived to bring good, order and peace to the world. We right the wrongs the villains of our past did to us and our nation. And we don't do wrong by them. We did not kill those who antagonised us, but only moved them, so that they may live out their days in peace," he paused, every eye in the room following his every move, "It has come to my attention that there is a problem with the Isle of the Lost, and the court is gathered to debate a response."

Mutters ran through the room. _The Isle of the Lost_. They tried not to think about it, really. If they ignored it, it might go away, and so would the memories and the fact that _they weren't really the heroes_, "They cannot grow food on the Isle of the Lost. Crops die within days. Livestock doesn't last much longer and is often ill. There aren't enough clean water sources for them." The King cleared his throat again. Now to face their wrath- "Belle and I propose we send a quarter of Auradon harvest over, every season."

Screams ran through the courtroom. Shouts and accusations flew. Angry whispers abounded. Obviously, the idea was not approved of.

"Any other ideas are welcome to the floor. Raise your hand, and each idea will be thoroughly explored and votes for eventually."

"We give them _nothing_!" Several hearty cries echoed the call, "They took _everything_ from us!" King Adam frowned, his glasses sliding down his nose. An expected response, but not a welcome one.

"We'll table that for now. Anyone else?"

Silence reigned through the courtroom, everyone questioning their ideals. _What was fair? What did they deserve? Would they still be __**heroes**_ _if they gave nothing?_ Briar Rose leaned down a seat, to whisper into the ears of Phoebus and Esmeralda de Châteaupers {_de Châteaupers was a Vassal House of Noble House Rosiers_}. When she straightened, she smiled, and Adam _knew_ that whatever she wanted, she was going to get. Then Phoebus stood up.

"We send them Auradon's leftovers. The end of our harvest, what's left in butchers' shops and the bread bakers throw out. They can make with it what they will." And that idea was the best Adam had heard so far. Better than Belle's ridiculous _quarter_ plan. And _definitely_ better than leaving them to rot {_though they deserved no more_}.

"Those for?"

_76 votes._

"Those against?"

_20 votes._

_A clear winner_.

"Motion carried."


	57. Sloth: Chapter 2

_The Hospital_

_Magick_ was sentient, it was real, it was alive and pulsing and full of ideas, and only those who were chosen could even begin to consider controlling magicks. Maleficent was chosen. The Fairy Godmother was chosen. Peter Pan was chosen. Jafar was chosen. And Yen Sid was chosen. All of them had some level of the ability to control magick, but none would ever _bond_ with it. Many creatures were chosen by magick, to be able to wield it. To meld it, to change it and control it. King Adam was _not_ one of those people. The _Fairy Godmother_ was the one who constructed the barrier, but because she didn't want to seal faeries and djinn and all other creatures off from magick, it wasn't as strong as it _could_ be. And that meant several things:

One: The Isle Court could have a fully-functioning map of _exactly_ what was happening on the Isle of the Lost at any time.

Two: The descendants could learn their traditional magicks _and_ cast some of them.

Three: The rulers of the Isle of the Lost could heal themselves when they got hurt {_no one else could_}.

Four: Everyone who _couldn't_ heal themselves suffered.

The courtroom was already full when Adam entered. Well, almost. One seat was open. _Queen Elsa of Arendelle_ was missing. Adam had originally disagreed with giving her a vote because she _wasn't actually part _of Auradon, but they were allies, and they'd put their villain on the Isle, so as a show of _solidarity_, they'd given her the votes that would be allotted to someone of her status within Auradon. And what had she done? She used her votes _against_ Briar Rose {_who would do that? Rose was __**lovely**_}. And sure, he didn't _know_ that, but it made sense as nothing else did.

"Ehrm, well. As Queen Elsa is late, I suppose we'll have to start without her. Guards, lock the doors." Before they could, however, the Queen arrived, a hazy mist marking her entrance. She smiled apologetically towards the court and slipped into her seat next to Queen Belle's. The upholstery immediately froze over, and the bannister she grabbed onto to steady herself started frosting. She grimaced and slipped on a pair of pure white gloves. She nodded towards Adam, and so the session began.

"Yesterday, a girl by the name of Gizelle LeGume died. She was severely ill for three months, and then her condition deteriorated. Her father didn't bother to take her to one of the few medical specialists on the Isle, and there was no hospital or public health care facility her brother could take her to. This second session of the Isle Court has been called to order to discuss the problem of health care on the Isle of the Lost."

"Not the problem of the children on the Isle?" Broke in a voice.

"Queen Elsa, if you've something to say, you'll wait until the floor is open."

"Is it?"

"...Yes."

"Very well, then," the Queen of Arendelle stood up, to face all of the royal families of Auradon, "Personally, I _know_ that we're discussing the wrong subject. We _should_ be talking about how to get all of those children off the Isle. Those children who _don't deserve to be there_." She glared at Adam, "_However_ because King Adam didn't call this meeting to discuss that, _although I'm sure he will in the near future_, I'll stay on topic."

"There's no debate about what we have to do here. We have to build a hospital. A _real _hospital. With Auradon-trained doctors, people who aren't villains or crooks. Any Jury in the _world_ would convict us of war crimes for what we've done so far. Let's not make it any worse than it has to be."

"I motion to build a fully equipped, _state-of-the-art_ hospital on the Isle of the Lost. Every student studying medicine spends two years in the hospital, food, board and funds supplied before they receive a practising license. And they must be _unbiased_. We brought some of these people _back from the dead_. It will do us no good to just kill them, again. And, for the record?" The Queen continued, shooting a glare at Briar Rose, who was whispering into her Prince's ear, "If anything _less_ than my suggestion is implemented on the Isle of the Lost, Arendelle _will_ withdraw all support they've _ever_ given the United States of Auradon. That includes supporting their decisions within their nation and recognising them as a nation."

The courtroom was filled with angry royals, alternating between frowning at Queen Elsa and staring at their King and Queen with wide eyes. Arendelle's support was the only reason that the United States of Auradon even existed, and everyone knew that. Their King's response to this was _vital_ because it was a well-known fact that the Queen of Arendelle didn't agree with _any_ of the decisions Adam had made since he'd been crowned.

The king was stuttering, pulling at his collar, glancing between his wife and Queen Elsa, "Ehrm, well… Uhm… I suppose. Any motions other than Els- ah, _Queen_ Elsa's proposition?"

The hall was silent.

"Then I suppose I second the motion. That brings us to a vote. Those for?"

_87 votes_.

"Those against?"

_18 votes._

"And no abstainers. So, _**motion carried**_."


	58. Sloth: Chapter 3

_The Break_

_"Did you hear?"_

Two princesses sat on a window seat, fingers lightly grasping their china teacups, nails long and painted, lashes fake and makeup _perfect_. Their dresses were thin and airy, summer impacting their clothing {_but still traditional, still modest, still __**covering**_}. They smiled at each other, blue eyes meeting. Both were conservative, Aryan, _perfect_, womanly, _demure_. And both were rich and powerful beyond their wildest dreams.

Their names were Ella and Rose, and they often commiserated together. After all, they were both icons, heroes in every sense of the word {you married someone you met at a ball to find him a wife / You lied, to your daughter, to the world. You slept. You're no hero}. But on a summer morning, they spoke about the scandal that was currently rocking the echelons of Auradonian society.

"Of course I heard."

"How is it possible?"

"Adam said magic. He's _personally _questioning the Fairy Godmother. But when it happened, she said it was a technological effect. _How_ does that even happen? Magic and technology? That sounds like something from one of the books Ben's always giving Audrey to bring home."

"That's what she said, and I'm inclined to believe her."

"Still, it seems so completely ridiculous. And I know she fixed it, but what _caused_ it? And what are we going to do about it?"

"Not tell Elsa, for one. She's such a- well, she doesn't exactly act _appropriately_ towards Isle proceedings, now does she?" The women shared a vindictive smile as the conversation turned to more _mundane_ matters- specifically gossip.

"I don't know why Adam allowed her onto the Isle Court. She looks twenty, has previously been _inches_ from becoming her own villain, turned her own sister into ice, and has refused to take a king. Honestly, she's a nightmare to keep around." Briar Rose glanced around, checking to make sure no one could hear her comments. After all, they weren't exactly _kind_ or _good_.

"You're so right. You know, I heard-" here, Cinderella broke off, and glanced furtively around once more, even though they were in her palace, and then leaned forward and whispered into Briar Rose's ear, "I heard that she's a _dyke_." Rose gasped but didn't look too shocked. Just unsettled.

"Well, we certainly shan't let any of her children near ours. We're lucky that they won't attend Auradon Prep."

"Aren't we? I don't want any of that _freakishness_ around Chad and Carla. She's already very close with Spring…" Cinderella trailed off guiltily, looking to Briar Rose for condemnation or consolation, Rose wasn't sure.

"Well, darling, I'm sure it will be fine. This is Auradon, after all. None of that sort of nonsense happens here."

* * *

The courtroom was tense. The atmosphere was a combination of many factors- the most prominent two being that the Fairy Godmother was sitting in the centre of the room, and the fact that she was seated next to _Yen Sid_, the Guardian of the Isle of the Lost. Everyone had known this meeting was coming, but they still didn't like it. No one ever liked talking about the Isle of the Lost, except for arbitrary gossip.

And this was most certainly _not_ that.

"Well, I suppose it will be best to just get started. You all know why we're here, so Fairy Godmother, if you could begin?" King Adam began the meeting, sinking into his throne, pinching his nose to keep off a headache. Subtly glaring at the Queen of Arendelle- he had 'forgotten' to send her an invitation to the court meeting, in hopes that she wouldn't be there to cause trouble. His plan had failed, and she sat stiffly in her seat, turning it to solid ice. Something that was happening more and more often, recently.

The Fairy Godmother stood, her wand clutched tightly in her hands. She'd willingly relinquished her wand to the museum, on the condition that she should retrieve it for any formal event; and the gathering of every hero in the last century was most _definitely_ that.

"Thank you, your Majesty. Well, everyone, let me start with saying you needn't worry. The break in the barrier didn't allow a single villain to escape. In fact, it only existed for fifteen seconds before it snapped shut, of its own accord. Since then, Yen Sid and I have tripled the magical protections over the Isle, and the King has sent in various forces to remove any of the technology that could have possibly caused such a terrible interruption. You're all safe."

"But, I've asked the King to call you all here for a very specific reason. You see, there is still magic on the Isle of the Lost." Gasps echoed through the room, and King Adam sighed {_if he had his way, they'd never have these meetings. They were far too dramatic_}.

"We have fairies, genies, and even mermaids on the Isle. It would physically damage them to be sealed off from magic for all this time. But as you've all seen, this allowance we made was taken advantage of, and we must take action. I've proposed cutting off _all_ magic to the Isle of the Lost. It might be detrimental to some of them, but it's for the safety of our children."

Ye Sid stood up here, and the entire room fell silent. But he only spoke once sentence.

"It would drive them mad."

And he sat down. The king rolled his eyes, before looking to the room at large, "Well, there you have it. I'd like to remind you all that, had the attack on the barrier gone on slightly longer, _Maleficent, the mistress of all evil_, could have escaped. Now. Votes for?"

_70_.

"Votes against?"

_35_.

"Motion carried. Fairy Godmother?"


	59. Sloth: Chapter 4

_The School_

"So, Ben, how was school?" These were Adam's favourite evenings. No stress, no late meetings, no pain, no angry wife, no conflicting decisions. Just the three of them. Just his family (and sometimes Audrey, but that was okay {_she and Ben were practically betrothed anyway_}). But his son was frowning at a textbook on his lap and didn't answer. So Adam tried again.

"Ben, did you have a good day at school?" Still, Ben ignored him, and that beastly temper that he tried so hard to keep down began to surface. He was _trying_ to have a good evening, but Ben was making it extremely hard.

"Ben, you'll answer me when I'm talking to you."

Eventually, his son's head snapped up, his cheeks flushing red from embarrassment. A half-smile crawled its way onto his face, and Ben set the book aside, looking up at his father, "Dad, does the Isle of the Lost have a school?" And the thought that had never even _considered_ crossing Adam's mind was suddenly there, lit up in the brightest colours, and _terrifying_. At thirteen, Ben had been going to school for most of his life. And there were kids on the Isle, sure, but Adam hadn't even considered that they might also need schooling. He had to think fast.

"Erm, no, son. You see, they're never really going to get jobs they need school for, so generally, they just start working at your age. It's a different… culture, there." Ben was frowning again, and Adam knew this conversation wasn't going anywhere good anytime soon.

"But, like, that's not fair. To them, I mean. They should at least know basic stuff over there, right? Like, if they only learn what their parents teach them, they'll never learn _anything_, because their parents are villains. Unless… do villains like teaching? I don't think they would."

Adam stayed silent. He really didn't want to have to call a new Isle Court (they were terrible, and always put Auradon on the outs with Arendelle), but with the direction Ben's questioning was going, he'd have to. Because if Ben could ask these questions, so could other governments, and Adam was already in shit with the UN for creating a monarchy.

"Dad? Dad! What are we going to do about it?"

"Ben, _we're _not going to do anything. You're not old enough to even come to the Court with your proposition. Next time there's an Isle Court arranged, I'll bring it up. Is that good with you?" Ben frowned for a second longer, before smiling brightly and standing up.

"Okay. Do you want crisps too? I think Mrs Potts said we have some in the pantry." Adam smiled at his hyperactive son, confirming that he'd like chips, before settling deeper into his chair. The school system in Auradon was finicky enough to deal with as it was. He didn't really want to have to deal with a school system on the Isle of the Lost as well.

* * *

"Order! Order in the court!"

"What do they even need school for? It's not like they're ever going to have any sort of _life_! We should just leave them be! The medical and food programmes are taxing our economy enough as it is!" shouted Prince Phillip. Several angry mutters heartily agreed with him, and Adam could see the appeal. But he was the king, and he had to set an example for Ben.

"Look, I understand. I'm _loathe_ to spend government funds on the villains, let alone the children they got themselves stuck with. But think of the good press we'd get. We're implementing schools because they didn't. We're educating their children, even if they want to kill ours. _We're the heroes in the situation_." And that was the magic word. They all sat down quietly, considering what had been brought to the table.

But the Queen of Arendelle's chair just started growing sharp icicles, and he _didn't know how to please that woman_. But she said nothing, and so he counted it as a win in his book {_but the hate festered inside her, fury at the __**weak**_ '_heroes' who only cared about the reputation, at the king who was too lazy to rule, at the people who thought that these children were __**just like their parents**__, when they didn't even know what they looked like (teenage hormones clouded the twenty-one-year-olds judgement, even three years after her coronation)_}.

"The school won't be _Auradon Prep_," he continued to reassure the Houses, "But it will be enough to teach the students basic arithmancy, reading and writing. That should be good enough." He shone his most winning smile at the crowd {_taught to him by Cogsworth, all those many moons ago_} and crossed his fingers under his desk. He gestured to the map table, which had been enchanted to show exactly where the school would be built, and what it would look like.

"That would be the school. It would be completed by the end of the year, and _no_, Auradonians would not be required to go teach there, as with the medical programme," he spared a moment to shoot an _unhappy_ glance at the Queen of Arendelle, before continuing, "The Isle of the Lost will be responsible for its own teachers, syllabuses, and indeed any other academic decisions."

"Now, all in favour?"

_57_.

"All against?"

_48._

"Thank you for your time. Motion passed."


	60. Sloth: Chapter 5

_Interlude_

There wasn't much technology on the Isle of the Lost, and what there was belonged to the most _powerful_ villains. But, there was one television in Ursula's Fish and Chips shop, and when something _big_ happened, all the Descendants gathered there, to jeer and complain and _mock_ and fight {_the Direct Descendants would always have enemies inside themselves, would never get along perfectly, but when that television turned on, everyone met, and even the __**Kings**_ _and __**Queens**_ _would deign to join them (cause then at least, they could get out of that fucking house)_}.

This was one of those times.

A sixteen-year-old woman sat on a makeshift throne, her lover on her lap. The lover had deep blue hair and wore jewellery that was worth more than some of her companions. She wore a leather dress that clung to her curves and makeup so perfect one couldn't tell what was fake. Her lips were the brightest red, and her eyes a shocking blue. She was pale and gorgeous and kissing the woman whose lap she was positioned on, tugging on the purple hair that had recently been cut off.

Next to them stood two men, one muscled and the other scrawny, but both tense and on guard. The larger one wore a shirt without sleeves, purposefully displaying his tattoos {_all were gruesome, all had really happened. They were his first line of defence_}. His arms were crossed, and he frowned at anyone who _dared_ look at his Queens too long. The scrawny one, on the other hand, was watching the other's back, making sure no one _dared_ come close enough to _touch_ one of his beloveds. He wore _fur_, and red and white and black, and he echoed his mother in the way the other Descendants couldn't.

A dark-skinned girl sat in the corner nearby, head raised, eyeing the purple-haired fae girl {_her expression was almost __**worried**__, although she'd never admit it_}. The Aryan girl, on the other hand, tried to stay as far away from the blue-haired girl as possible, silently {_always silently_} clutching her throat, _glaring_. And then the screen flickered to life, and everyone ripped their attention away from the centre of the room to watch as the _Crown Prince_ ascended the makeshift stage, hand-in-hand with a brunette girl wearing so much _pink_, there was only one woman her mother could be. Everyone spared a glance towards the Iron Court, but the Kings and Queens just _glared_, and so no one said anything.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, it is an honour to welcome you to today's ceremonial announcement. I've chosen my first official proclamation as King of Auradon." The Descendants rolled their eyes. _Fucking mandatory viewing_. But the citizens of Auradon cheered brightly, and the Crown Prince beamed.

"I'm going to bring four of the Villain's kids over from Auradon."

Dead silence.

In Auradon, at least.

The Descendants screamed and jeered and cheered and _laughed_. They shrieked in ridicule of the Crown Prince's _moronic_ idea. The Princeling thought he could _change_ them {_they were already in too deep_}. Then Mal le Fay raised her hand, and silence echoed through the bar.

The Crown Prince continued, unaware of the ridicule he was being subjected to on the other side of his kingdom, "I believe this will be an excellent opportunity to begin the healing of our two peoples. After all, the children of the villains are innocent-" And then, it would be a miracle to be able to hear the rest of his speech, anywhere on the Isle of the Lost. Even the _Kings and Queens_ were shrieking with a hideous, scorning laughter. _Innocent_.

"And I'm starting with the four that need our help most. The Daughter of the Evil Queen, the Son of Jafar, the Son of Cruella de Ville, and… _the Daughter of Maleficent_." The eyes of every Descendant landed on the rulers of the Isle, the judges of the Iron Court. One question burned in their eyes. _How does he know?_

Because he'd just removed the entire justice system of the Isle in one fell swoop. Their uniters, the reason none of them was dead yet. The Isle of the Lost would be _weak_, and its inhabitants would turn on each other in the blink of an eye. In a month, there would be no one on the Isle of the Lost.

The Kings and Queens just smiled knowingly.

* * *

"What are we going to do?" Aurora questioned, pacing frantically. Her heels had been thrown aside when she stormed in, and the wine bottle she clutched at the neck was half-full {_it had been full when she'd arrived_}. Her lips were already stained blue {_would Merryweather be pleased or disappointed?_} and her eyes were puffy from crying. She was a picture of desperation, had been since ben had announced his first proclamation.

Her husband, on the other hand, was reacting very differently. He sat in the master's chair in front of the fire. He held a whiskey tumbler in his hand, and his eyes were closed. He'd been dealing with his wife's fits for as long as he could remember. He was well-practised by now, and so he just sighed.

That was a wrong move. Aurora whipped on him, stalking over, fury and regret mingling on her face, "We'll have to tell her." That grabbed his attention. He sat upright and gave his wife a cursory glance, making sure she was being serious. She was, and he put a hand to his temple.

"You know we can't do that."

She collapsed next to his chair, resting her head on the arm, "We have to! Phillip, she was _your_ mistake. I've not once complained, or stepped out of line, or mentioned your _numerous_ affairs since then. I've been the perfect wife. But that girl is your daughter, and we have to tell Audrey she says a sister. Who knows what that _faerie _might say otherwise?" Phillip rolled his eyes, trying to figure his way _out_ of the situation.

"_Audrey_ is my daughter. That _fairy _is just a mistake, and a nuisance. Everything will be fine _if you never bring this up again_. Do you understand me, Aurora? I don't want to talk about this again with you, _**ever**_."

Aurora glared at him through eyelashes sticky with tears once more, before leaving the room, perfect and quiet {_except for the stifled tears, and the empty wine bottle_}. And Phillip sank deeper into his chair, pouring himself more whiskey. And Audrey lay in the guest bedroom of the Beast's house (as requested by her parents, to keep her from the fighting that was _bound_ to happen).

_And Mal's life was __**awful**__, but she'd take it any day over __**Auradon**__, because her life made her a __**Queen**__, and Audrey's life made her __**weak**__, pathetic._


	61. Sloth: Chapter 6

_The Verdict_

The new king stood on a balcony, overlooking the courtroom. He'd never been to an Isle Court meeting before, even though he'd been to many other meetings his father organised. The Isle Court was originally for a very particular set of the elite- heroes only. However, as the original heroes grew older, it would eventually fall to the children to protect and serve the Isle of the Lost. Ben would just get a head start as king.

The room was expensive and stylish, yet also classy. But that wasn't what Ben was looking at. No, Ben was watching the people as they filed into their seats. Who they stopped to talk to, who they ignored, and what they did as they passed the map of the Isle, which was always open to anyone who was curious (despite Ben's belief that it should be otherwise. What the heroes were doing was a _massive_ invasion of privacy- but, oh well. They were heroes. They had a right).

He watched as Audrey tagged along behind her mother. Audrey had been attending these meetings since they were seven- after all, her family had the most votes, aside from the Royal Family of Arendelle (but his dad had told him not to trust them, and so he wouldn't). She wouldn't be the one to cast the eventual votes, that would be her husband's job, but her mom had said that she'd need to guide him, at first. So Audrey had come to every Isle Court meeting, except the first (after all, they'd been three-years-old. What would they know?). But now, it was Ben's turn; and not just to attend, but also to lead.

Everyone started settling into their seats, and he noticed something. Today, the Arendelle Seats accommodated for not one, but three people (his dad had told him stories, of how each house's seat adjusted for the number of people that would be in attendance. Well, it seemed that he'd get to meet Princess Anna and Prince-Consort Kristoff. This _would_ be an interesting session indeed.

When he first saw the Queen of Arendelle, he was _sure_ something was wrong. Because she was his mom's age, but she looked closer to his age. She looked the same as the pictures he'd seen of her in the history books- from when she was crowned Queen. But then Anna and Kristoff filtered in after her, exchanging pleasantries with everyone where Elsa had just ignored them, and he figured that she'd just aged well. And, _finally_, the Court was full and they could begin.

"Erhm… hi?" No one paid him attention. And, yeah, he knew that wasn't the way he was supposed to start meetings, but these people were all older, more respected than him. He didn't want to be rude. But they _kinda_ had to get on. He'd promised Mal a verdict by lunch, and it was now eleven.

"Hi, everyone! Hello! Could we please bring the court to order, and begin? We've got a rather important matter at hand?" Slowly, everyone quieted down. And then they were just looking at him expectantly.

"Um, hi! Yeah, okay. So. This is the first Isle Court meeting I'm presiding over, and it's a rather important one- not that the others weren't, but, well.." he trailed off. He wasn't exactly off to a great start. He took a deep breath and began again.

"You were all at my coronation, and even though we were all frozen, the footage from security cameras recorded everything. So everyone knows what happened. And what happened resulted, in short, in Maleficent being a lizard that's currently here, in Auradon. And this meeting has been called to deal with that situation- specifically, what we're going to to do about it." He smiled at the room, hoping to calm them down before bringing up his plan.

"I think Mal should keep her."

The courtroom exploded into questions and conversations. Everyone was staring at him derisively. As if they couldn't _believe_ that he had the guts to propose that. He began to explain himself, "We can't send Maleficent back to the Isle of the Lost as a lizard. That's basically guaranteeing her death, and even though she's done that to us, more than once, we can't sink to her level. And I know no one here is willing- even I'm not willing- to spend government funds on keeping an evil lizard." He cracked a half-smile, and everyone laughed lightly with him. This was what he was good at- influencing a crowd.

"Mal knows Maleficent better than anyone. She'll be able to keep her safe, but she'll also have to put the effort in, making it the perfect way for her to prove herself loyal to Auradon, and atone for what she did that led to Maleficent being released from the Isle in the first place."

"As you can see, letting Mal keep her- basically as a pet- is the best, most humane solution. However, I will open the floor to any other suggestions for the next ten minutes before the vote." Ben finished his speech, but no one spoke up. Until.

"Shouldn't you work on turning her back into a faerie? She's a person before a villain. And she's a pretty bad villain, but keeping her as a pet seems cruel. Why don't we just turn her into a faerie, and then place her back on the Isle?"

"Because that worked so well the first time," Aurora snapped at the Queen of Arendelle, "This is, first and foremost, _my_ family at stake. She'll come after us first, should she escape again. I'd rather have her dead, but a magic-less lizard is the closest second I'll get."

Queen Elsa pursed her lips but said nothing. Ben could see, however, the way Princess Anna frowned and whispered furiously at her sister and even the way Prince-Consort Kristoff seemed to disapprove of his sister-in-law's methods.

"Okay well," he continued after a lack of response, "I suppose we now have two plans to vote on… erm, votes for the plan of House Arendelle?"

_32 votes_.

"And votes for the plan of House Beast?"

_68 votes_.

Ben decided not to comment on the fact that Hercules hadn't voted. He supposed that what happened in Auradon didn't really affect Olympus.

"Okay, wow. Erm… motion passed. I'll let Mal know."

"Court adjourned."


	62. Sloth: Chapter 7

_Control_

Mal wore a white dress. That, as it was, was something of a miracle. She was wearing a pure white dress, something Evie had made, designed to make her look innocent, to make her look _good_. So that the Court would listen to her, would vote in her favour. Her task wasn't going to be easy.

She had carefully cultivated an image in Auradon, an image to make her look good, _innocent _even. But this meeting of the Isle Court could bring all of that crashing down. What she was petitioning- well, she'd have to speak from personal experience. And she wasn't really looking forward to it, because even as Ben smiled at her {_stupid, silly, weak boy. Shouldn't have brought the kings and queens to Auradon_} he knew he was uncertain, that he didn't like that she {_a woman_} thought that she could dictate politics.

And then there was a flash of pink in the corner of her eye, and Mal froze. Because _they'd_ arrived. Briar Rose, Audrey, Leah. _Phillip_ {_how are you, Daddy? It's been a while. Say, sixteen years_} The house Rosiers. They held seventeen votes, Ben had told her, _excluding_ the votes of the loyal houses. They were who she had to convince.

"Order in the court!" Ben had certainly progressed since his first court meeting. He'd told her stories of how he'd stuttered through most of his argument for her, {_he hadn't told her about Queen Elsa's plan, because that was what __**Mal**_ _had wanted in the first place, and she'd only __**just**_ _settled for Maleficent being kept as a lizard_} of how he'd been so certain he'd mess up, but he kept going. For her.

Well, Mal had someone else to keep going for. _Felicia_. She couldn't make Felicia give another illegal abortion, not if she had a chance to change it. Ben nodded at her.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Court," she began, and it felt so _wrong_ because she was supposed to be listening to the pleas, not making them. But she swallowed down the bile that rose in her throat, and continued, "Ladies and Gentlemen of the Court. The Isle of the Lost needs birth control." And she paused, because everyone was whispering, and _did they even know how to hold a court session?_ Ben was frowning at her as if he didn't think that her request was appropriate or something (and she had news for him).

"I've seen far too many girls pregnant as teenagers. I've seen Felicia Facilier, the only provider of abortions on the Isle because even your state-of-the-art hospital doesn't do that, break down crying when she lost a girl. Evie's friend, Sal was _raped_," she spat, "and we couldn't be certain she wasn't going to fall pregnant. She was _twelve_."

Mal paused, gathering her words, as the _heroes_ of the Isle Court looked down on her, "I have… a friend, who had to have an abortion. She couldn't walk for a week, she was in so much pain. Please, _please_," she actually _begged, _"the Isle needs birth control. You have it in your power to stop all the pain. Please."

She sat down. She'd said all she could say {_she was at the mercy of the heroes_}. She heard whispers of words like _responsibility_ and _heathens_ thrown around, but she just closed her eyes and crossed her fingers. She had to hope.

Ben's voice sounded out, "All in favour of birth control on the Isle?"

He looked down at a screen in his desk, where he'd told her he received a digital message of the number of votes.

"All against?"

"Motion failed. This meeting is adjourned."

Mal sat, stunned. _They'd said no_. They were supposed to be the heroes, the _good guys_, but they'd said no {_the plan further sealed in her head. Even Ben wouldn't escape her wrath, not anymore. He was __**pathetic**_}. She sat where she was until a woman approached her. And Ben had warned her against this woman, but that made the Queen of Arendelle _exactly_ the type of person Mal wanted to associate with.

"I gave you all my votes," the Queen shrugged, and smiled sadly, "But seventeen will never beat _Sleeping Beauty_." She spat the name with such scorn that Mal _knew_; she'd always have an ally in Queen Elsa.

"Thank you, your Majesty. You did the right thing." {_But not the good one_}

The Queen leaned in close, and whispered into her ear, "One almost-villain to another- I'd keep your relationship with your three closer to your chest. You're starting to show." The Queen rose, gracefully, and continued, louder, "You're always welcome in Arendelle, Mal. Anytime."

{_One had saved herself. The others would die._}


	63. Avarice: Chapter 1

_If you're new to the Seven Deadly Sins series, this is the sixth story. You can find the order of reading on my profile, or if you'd prefer, the entire series in one story titled 'The Horsemen's Cycle'._

* * *

**Avarice: Heroes of the Darkest Age**

* * *

_One_

They called it the **Blood Palace**. It rose above the horizon, a sole image of ultimate power. Of strength.

They called it the **Blood Palace** because the pure white marble steps that lead up to the thrones were stained red. They called it the **Blood Palace** because it was the place the first blood of the revolution had been spilt {_Mal walked out of the chambers. She held a sheet over her otherwise nude body and grasped the final key for revenge in her hand_}.

Chad Charming had coined the term. The first servant of the Kings and Queens, shackled and dragged away in front of his mother, the wound in his leg leaving a red trail through the corridors. Chad Charming, shrieking, screeching, _begging_. Saying he'd never be a slave in the palace made of Ben's blood (_he was wrong_). And High Queen Mal just smiled, _deadly_, and laughed. Mouthed the words '**Blood Palace' **to her lovers and nodded to herself.

{_The new throne room was hideous. Animal skins hung on the walls, blood was always drying on the floor. The thrones were made of different materials- one thorn and velvet, a second an apple tree dripping with poison and held together by a ribbon, the third made with some rusted and aged metal with a lamp carved above the headrest, and the last steel and fur, made of 101 dalmatians._}

High Queen Mal continued using the phrase long after Chad Charming was forgotten, _welcoming_ visitors and prisoners alike to the Blood Palace {_one thing had to be said for the building, though. It was beautiful through its grotesqueness, stunning in its hideousness the blood and marble created patterns across the floor that the Queens would trace as they danced. The poison that ran from Queen Evie's chair eroded canals into the floor, glittering with strychnine. The walls, hung with pelts and jewels (courtesy of King Carlos) were deadly yet elegant. The fires that burned along the walls of the hall shone a light across the throne room that illuminated the scars scattered across the Kings' and Queens' faces_}. And when Chad Charming grew too old to serve the still-youthful monarchy, they slew him, cutting his throat and leaving his blood to stain the floors, on top of the decades of torture that already discoloured the ground. But the horrors of the Blood Palace was nothing compared to what it housed. Slaves and thralls {_Chad and Doug_} dotted the corridors and rooms of the palace, some defiant, some willing {_wanting_} to serve. The guests of the palace each hateful and deadly in their own way {_Alya, Miranda, Lei_}. The prisoners, screaming and deformed. And the Rulers.

There was Queen Evie, of course. The Angelic. The fighter. The seductress. _The succubus_. A woman so beautiful you couldn't breathe in her presence, a woman who killed you if she kissed you, a woman fiercely protective of what was _hers_ {_Sal, Mikhail_}. There was Queen Evie, with her blue locks and big, black eyes that begged and enchanted. Queen Evie, with her pale, strong limbs and her dresses and her knowledge making her powerful. Queen Evie, with the scars of the plastic surgery her mama had made her get. Queen Evie, who never wore makeup, to spite her mother. Queen Evie, who was a _fucking genius_. Queen Evie, with her strength and her power and her _lust_ {_AnaelVenusAphroditeFreyaHathorConquest_ _boiled and fought inside her, their chosen_} who wedded Elsa and Hayden, who started a school of magick and death to spite the Fairy Godmother, who had always thought she was more a _pretty girl_ than anything else, who had poisoned Snow White and made her _whole family watch_.

Then there was King Carlos (the _Deceitful_, the one who'd made himself look weak and fragile when he was stronger than every boy in Auradon). King Carlos, who had once used technology to break the _magick barrier_. King Carlos, _Set_, with his unerring loyalty to _Hathor _and _Horus_ and _Anubis_. King Carlos, who stood next to _MinervaAthenaThoth_ with pride, King Carlos who wore his mother's skin as a coat and had skinned one-hundred-and-one dalmatians, who had skinned a bear and a panther and a wolf. King Carlos, who had sent Alice {_not __**the**_ _Alice_} to kill a pregnant woman because she'd been _cheating_. King Carlos, who spent his life as a King designing and inventing and creating. King Carlos, who requested a sacrifice from his people. King Carlos, with cigarette burns across his body, with marks where Angelique Mors had hit him too hard, with a limp in the leg that had been grasped by the _bear traps_ his mother had put in his closet {_where he slept_} to keep her furs safe. King Carlos who looked upon the Feast of Fools every year, and _smiled_ and laughed with joy.

There was King Jay, the High King, the _Avenger_. The one who led armies to war and tore apart nations, the one who embodied _Thor and Mars and Ares_, the one who ruled and the one who killed, the King who slaughtered for his high queen. There was King Jay, with tattoos of snakes and demons and sigils that Queen Mal had _created_ for him. King Jay, the player, the flirt, the defender, with split lips and broken bones that set wrong and puncture marks in his stomach where Maleficent's metal-toed boot had kicked him more than once. King Jay who wore red nail polish and armour and whose smile meant _death_. King Jay who had given his lovers everything, just like he'd always wanted to {_you are a king and you will give your lovers everything they deserve and more when we reach Auradon_}. King Jay who had fought Li Lonnie for her life {_who had let Li win_}, who had slaughtered Ariel's entire family because she _betrayed them_ {_gave her son to her worst enemy_}. High King Jay, the djinn, the one who was loyal to Uriah {_Aaron_} because he'd granted Ursula those three wishes. High King Jay, a genius in his own right, because his mind held all the power and knowledge of an ancient civilization {_species_}.

And then. Then, there was the Highest of them all. The fae who had led them to victory. High Queen Mal. The _powerful_ {_all-powerful_}. The woman with a scar running from her cheekbone to the tip of her ear, who wielded Maleficent's staff and the Faerie Godmother's wand, but didn't need to, because she was _so_ powerful that a pure thought could materialise. There was Queen Mal who brought _Death_, because Death was a constant through every universe, through every civilization, every century, every _pattern_. High Queen Mal, who kissed her Queen with the anger that the Isle instilled in every Descendant but never died, who gave her High King free reign to kill, who gave her _deceitful King_ everything he could ever want for and _so much more_, because his mother hadn't. High Queen Mal the Powerful, who killed Gianna Ratcliffe because _she thought_ she could take on the Iron Court. The Fourth Horseman of the Apocalypse, the Queen of the Fae, the woman who wrought an alliance with the HellQueen, who sold her body to feed her lovers and who still danced because she'd taken something she'd hated about herself and _owned_ it. High Queen Mal, Creator of the Thrones, enslaver of Auradon {_the fae who used the laws to her advantage_}. Queen of the Unseelie Court. High Queen Mal, who cut off her husband's head while he was still riding out his pleasure, who brought _Justice_ to the Isle of the Lost, who killed Maleficent and didn't _tell anyone_ because she _didn't deserve to be remembered_. High Queen Mal, the fae who wore an iron ring to prove her strength to the world, who was scarred so that stars threw her face into a new definition.

The **Blood Palace** housed the four Kings and Queens, was their Mount Olympus, their Asgard {_there would be a place, in each cycle, that was sacred to the Gods. And Mal, Evie, Jay and Carlos were __**gods**_}. It was their stronghold, and they'd never leave because this was where their family was, where their _lovers_ were.

"Let them scream. It doesn't bother me," Queen Evie laughed. The screams of the prisoners of the **Blood Palace** echoed through the throne room, ringing in the ears of the Kings and Queens, complementing the gorgeous laugh of the succubus Queen {_everything complemented the succubus Queen_}. A particularly loud scream sounded, the voice it belonged to reminiscent to a friend of long ago, and the Queens smiled, leaning over their thrones to kiss each other.

The High King smiled at the display of affection, smiled as the fae Queen paled slightly {_the effects of a succubus were smaller if she tried- not that Queen Evie tried often_}, smiled as he pulled King Carlos closer on his lap. Rivulets of blood ran down the High Queen's chair to join the splatters on the floor, the blood of her fellow Queen running as Queen Evie accidentally grabbed the throne of the fae, covered in thorns {_briars_}. He smiled at the thought that they were _finally_ getting what they deserved.

{_Because this was their palace. This was their home. The entire land that had once been the United States of Auradon was __**theirs**__, the people were theirs. They'd lived off nothing but scraps for __**so long**__, because of those pathetic "heroes" who did nothing, who never tried, who wanted to defeat the one thing that will __**always**_ _survive. __**Evil**__. __**Darkness**__. That's the heroes of Auradon didn't survive- they didn't embrace the darkness that lived inside them._

_The Kings and Queens, and their Blood Palace, and their Iron Court would survive. Because they were the greatest {__**you could be a hero, or you could be the best**__}, they'd brought about the __**darkest age**_ _imaginable, and they were the heroes and the saviours of their generation, of their people {__**the people of the Isle of the Lost**__}. They were __**the heroes of the darkest age**__._}


	64. Avarice: Chapter 2

_Two_

'_Do you know how pretty you are?'_ The question was something Evie heard often. She'd heard it all the time, through her years on the Isle of the Lost, and then Auradon. But she hadn't heard it from this particular person in a long, _long_ time. She hadn't thought she would, ever again.

'_Helena?'_ Evie turned around to face the first girl whose heart she'd broken. Helena looked well. She was more muscled than she had been, her black hair glossy and her scars covered with a thin layer of makeup. She was wearing a pair of jeans and boots {_she'd never stop defying her dad, even long after she'd killed him_}. She was smiling, her lips a bright red to match her coat- that of a naval officer. She wore a sword at her side, '_Wow. I- it's been so long. I've missed you.'_ The queen closed in for a hug, and the pirate obliged. Then Evie took a step back, taking in the girl in front of her.

'_You look good. Auradon has done you well. Or, what's left of it.'_

The pirate smiled, '_And it's you I have to thank for that.'_ Her eyes glittered, and the thin sliver of guilt that had been eating at Evie for _so long_ made an appearance, '_I only left you because mamma almost found out. You know that right? I really loved you. But Gianna had seen us, and she was going to tell mamma, who'd tell Captain Hook. It was for your safety.'_

Helena rolled her eyes, a fond smile on her lips, '_Queen Evie. I know. I forgave you long ago. It was all part of the pattern anyway.'_ The succubus queen smiled, a true, joyous smile and her happiness spoke volumes of the respect she had for the woman in front of her, '_It's just Evie. That's why you're here, then? Visiting Miranda?'_

The raven-haired girl nodded secretively, '_And something else. I- I've got a girlfriend.'_ The squeal that followed her admission could have shattered glass. The queen was so, so excited {_proud_}. She led her old flame through the twisting halls of her palace to a lounge adjacent to the throne room and sat her down {_offered her a drink, served by the son of Cinderella. Helena asked for whiskey- and where'd she learn __**that**_ _habit?_}.

'A girlfriend? You _must_ tell me everything! What's she like?'

'Well, she's beautiful. And so strong. And she doesn't take shit from anyone, even me. She came with me, when I… dealt with dad, even though it's not her scene,' Helena was blushing a beautiful pink, and Evie was smiling, proud. She could see how much Helena _adored_ her girlfriend, 'She taught me to swim, you know? And, um, she's going to come with me. On my ship. We're going to sail, together.'

The queen was beaming, 'Oh, I'm so happy for you! Helena, you really deserved this. Even Sif and Pakhet got their happy endings. But- why are you here, then? I know we've already given you approval to sail?'

And then, the High King burst into the room, pride adorning his face, 'Eve, baby, you'll never believe what's happened- I just had to fight _Li Lonnie _for her life, at the request of Lei. It's the weirdest thing ever. You've _got_ to come to help me figure it out, cause Mal's off with Carlos somewhere, so they're useless-' he broke off when he noticed Evie's guest, who had been sitting quietly.

'Oh- hey, Helena! Didn't know you were here. You can come too if you want? I guess?' The captain nodded, amused, and waited for the monarchs to leave, before exiting herself.

And there she stood.

Lonnie hadn't been beautiful when Helena had met her. She'd had branches on her hair and blood on her face, and she'd been fighting for her life. And Helena had fallen in love. Lonnie's hair had been cropped short when they met, but it had reached her shoulders now. She wore a leather jacket and thick eyeliner as she stood in front of the High King and succubus queen, her head held high and her shoulders thrown back. Helena's best sword at her side, and she was breathing heavily.

Helena knew she loved easily {_a trait her father had always hated_}, but with Lonnie, it was deeper, stronger. Lonnie was smart and good with a sword, and prettier than Evie had ever been {_at least to Helena_}. So she'd challenged Lei when she'd tried to kill Lonnie, and Lei had insisted on a duel between Lonnie and Jay. Lonnie had _won_.

Really, what could Helena do _but_ kiss her?

And Evie smiled, and Jay shouted out in surprise.

'Holy shit! Evie, did you know? 'Cause if you did, you shoulda told me. I'da gone a helluva lot easier on Lonnie- though I already wasn't tryin' real hard,' he mused. Lonnie broke away from Helena and turned to Jay, 'Now, Jay, if you'd gone any easier, it _really_ wouldn't have been a fight.'

Jay just stuck his tongue out at the happy couple and laughed, shooing them out of 'his' throne room.

'Oh- Helena!' Evie called out once more, just before the two women exited the throne room, 'What's the name of your ship going to be? You said you'd tell us next time you came by!'

And Helena smiled, turned around to face the High King and a Queen.

'_Sappho.'_


	65. Avarice: Chapter 3

_Three_

The Casting Room was the most beautiful room in the Blood Palace, that was definite. It might even have been the most beautiful place in this world. It held none of the mysterious glory of the moors at night or the traditional elegance of the halls of Queen Evie's School of Wild Magicks. But it was full of diamonds that only glittered under stars, stacked with vials of the blood of each citizen of Auradon, splashed with ink and scattered with the faerie dust that was so rarely allowed in Auradon when the _Beasts_ (ha!) ruled.

But, regardless of whether the Casting Room was the most beautiful place in all the universes, it was _off-limits_. Because it belonged to Queen Mal. The Casting Room was where she escaped to _breathe_, to feel, and to _collect_. And oh, she did. And she was _glorious_. Her hair was ragged and wet, and her lips cracked {and sometimes she'd waste away, but then her lovers would come to fetch her}, but she was glorious nonetheless, her eyes wild and vivid, and her skin sparkling and crackling with life and magick.

Because sometimes, even the High Queen needed time off {_she needed more than most, she hadn't had any as a child_}. Because sometimes, the screams of her victims echoed in her ears {_other times, her screams and her mother's, intermingling pain and fury_} and she couldn't **breathe**, and sometimes the magick that she'd never had access to rushed up inside her and her bones **ached**.

{_And sometimes, in the dead of night, when she was casting spells and collecting souls, she regretted what she did._

_Because Ben was good or would have been. If Auradon had morals, had a system that could be trusted. If people could be good._

_**But they couldn't**__._}.

And the High Queen had a project. A creation so _beautiful_ that all would stop and stare. A creation so stunning that people would stop and stare and she'd regain what was rightfully _hers_, she'd regain her birthright and be worthy of the title _fae_. So she locked herself in the Casting Room, let her magick power it, used the blood of a succubus and a djinn and a half-fae and a _human_ and began crafting what would be the ultimate sculpture, _brought to life_.

And she carved them out of moonlight, out of slices so thin they'd shatter if you breathed too hard. She embedded stars and electricity and fire in gems that she scattered into the sculpture, poured the blood of her enemies {_Audrey, and her mother, were particularly useful_} into their veins, hewed ancient sigils of the gods and the witches and the fae into their very being, layered them over with magick so vital, so potent, she'd had to harvest it from curses {_because magick couldn't be created or destroyed, and killing the fae was a crime punishable by death_}. She'd breathed life into them {_the second favour from a djinn_}, and laced them with her soul. They shone with the black light of Death and the golden light of the sun.

* * *

And the High Queen laid back on the marble table, her hair fanning out around her like a halo, her lungs gasping for air, her eyes wide yet unresponsive, unseeing. Her nails long and sharp {_claws- she'd learnt from Cruella de Vil_} and scratching at her skin, trying to pull herself out of some hell that only she saw.

Behind her, flat on the table, lay the most gorgeous pair of wings that the world would ever see. They outshone even Queen Evie. Or they would have. Because no matter the painstaking effort put into them, no matter what magick their creator used, they'd never be _real_ wings. The Fae Queen would never fly, and the Queen of the Fae would always be an outcast {_because she was imperfect, impure, she was __**other**_} because wings were _life_.

Tears poured out her eyes, sliding down her face. Her mouth was opened in a silent scream, and the absolute _pain_ and _betrayal_ of life was sealed on her face. And that was when _they _entered. All beautiful, all with regret echoing through their eyes. They looked over the scene, from the smashed vials of blood to the light bouncing against the walls of the cavern {_for, truly, that was what it was_} and their Queen, broken as she was, broken and battered on the table {_you will never be accepted because you will never be __**good**__. The words of the fae court rang through her ears_}.

And the strong one, the djinn, had picked her up and carried her {_like a blushing bride, like __**before**_} to their bed, their bed as wide as a room that they'd all once curled up in, freezing and starving. And he'd lain next to her, held her, kept her body heat up and her arms tightly bound to her chest. And the succubus stroked her lover's cheek {_who cares if they think we're wrong? They're nothing, and we're Queens. In love. They can't __**stop**_ _our love_} and whispered sweet nothings. And the King stood guard over the wings, stood guard and scowled at any who passed the Casting Room, stood guard and drew his sword against the fae court when they came to take them {_these are __**hers**__. And one day, she'll use them to fucking __**fly**__. So if you come near them, I'll kill you, _and he grins, baring his teeth {_**Pestilence**_}, _I have no qualms with killing the entire race of fae. As far as I'm concerned, you can all go rot in __**Hell**_}.

* * *

'_You know,'_ whispered Evie softly, '_It would be much harder to scrape nails down your back if you had wings.'_

Mal choked out a watery laugh, which broke down into something of a sob, '_We all have bad days, Mal. That's okay. It's not the point.'_

'_Because every other day is the best day. And maybe we took that by force. And maybe, some people don't like it. But we clawed our way up from Hell by the tips of our fingers and then bleached off the scars so we'd be beautiful. So we'll kiss each other and make love till the fucking sun comes up, and then we'll rule our kingdom over the ashes of the courts that used to deny us, because we're the heroes, Mal. And they're just liars.'_


	66. Avarice: Chapter 4

_Four_

'_And now announcing: King Hayden and Queen Elsa of Arendelle!'_

The ballroom was done, of course, to perfection. Like Queen Evie would settle for anything less. Elsa had been married in the Blood Palace, but this- this was something else. The walls and floors of the room shone, and the thrones atop a balcony were made of gold and jewels. They weren't symbolic of anything but the _power_ of the Kings and Queens. Elsa could see King Jay and King Carlos sitting at their thrones, both in suits that looked to be sculpted for their bodies {_Queen Evie went all-out, for every gala, every ball, every dinner. She was __**amazing**_}. But the Kings, handsome though they were, weren't what attracted the attention of the room tonight. No, that was the Queens.

High Queen Mal wore the dress she'd worn to the coronation of her late husband, but it had been woven tighter, had thin strings of gold woven into the dress itself, and it shone {_the thin splatters of blood on the dress didn't detract from the effect at all, Elsa thought. If anything, they made the dress even more unique, more perfectly suited to the High Queen_}. But the High Queen wasn't the centre of tonight's festivities, and that showed.

Queen Evie laughed as she danced with her wife, her dress floating out around her. Her hair had been curled, and she left it down, contrasting with the bun of the fae queen. Her makeup made her _glow_ in the soft candlelight, her lips painted a dark purple and her eyes dark. And her _dress_. Made entirely of chiffon and lace, it covered her skin and clung to her body, accentuating her curves and proving {_once again_} her beauty. The dress sparkled with thousands of tiny diamonds, and would be considered a masterpiece {_if anyone other than the Angelic Queen was wearing it, because the dress's beauty paled in comparison to her_} And so, when Elsa entered, the first thing she saw was the Queens, dancing to a song as upbeat and vibrant as they were, drawing the attention of the room.

But as Hayden lead her onto the dancefloor, she realised that she, too, was drawing plenty of stares. And to no wonder. She had been the villain of her own story, but had turned to _love_ to _good_, and had allowed _another_ person to be locked up on the infernal Isle {_that she'd regretted it the moment it had happened was inconsequential. These people didn't know that_}. But Elsa wore a dress made of ice, and wore red lips, and danced with her husband, ignoring the glares that came from the people of Chess {_they didn't call it Auradon anymore but had never renamed it- but it was nicknamed Chess, for its two Kings and two Queens and rules of blood and death_}. They weren't, after all, _her_ people. They didn't matter. And so she danced, changing partners and floating through the room, happy with her place in life.

Eventually, she joined the Queens.

But they just dragged her in, smiling and laughing, shaking their heads and throwing their arms in the air. Queen Evie pressed a kiss to her lips as they danced, changing the colour of her lipstick {_and when Hayden spotted it later, he just laughed, "She is a good kisser, isn't she?"_} and the High Queen just pulled Elsa in closer {"_I saved you for a reason. I know what you did in the Isle Court. I'm glad you've found happiness"_}, spinning her around dancing as if there were no tomorrow. Queen Evie's birthday parties were always a night to remember.

When Elsa extracted herself and her husband from the dancefloor, the Queen had long since joined their husbands on the balcony overlooking the floor, and the four sat together, looking over the guests with smiles on their faces and gleams in their eyes {_from their vantage point, they could see Helena and Lonnie kissing in the corner, could see Dimitri and Astoria basking in their love (there were very few nights in the year when they dared to come out and do such), could see Evie's darling Sal dancing and flirting__ and they'd decided that this was perfection, exchanging secretive smiles_}.

'_Ladies and Gentlemen: Duke Hans and Duchess Anna of the Southern Isles!'_

Hayden frowned, "They didn't tell me they'd invited them. I'm so sorry. I wouldn't have brought you if I'd known she was coming."

Elsa rolled her eyes fondly. Sometimes, he could just be too kind. She wondered how he'd have turned out if he wasn't raised on the Isle of the Lost, "It's fine. I've no qualms with your father, and I know you miss him. If Anna wishes to complain," she broke off, putting her hand to her stomach lightly, where you could just see a bump if you knew to look, "Then that shall be her problem. I have the Queens' favour where she doesn't. If anything comes to blows- verbal or physical- she'll be the one to suffer."

Anna was wearing a gown similar to the one she'd worn the day that she met Hans, but for one change- her arms and neck were covered. Hans was a jealous man {_Hayden had told her many times_} and he was protecting what was his from the rest of the world {_not uncommon among the descendants, or the villains who'd survived the Day of Reckoning_}. Her hair was piled on top of her head, held in place by one hundred pins, each topped by a diamond, making her shine almost as much as Queen Evie. But where everyone else was smiling, excited for and proud of their monarchs, Anna's face was solemn. She held herself as far away from her husband as possible, shoulders tense and eyes dead {_and maybe, if the ice hadn't changed her, Elsa might have felt sorry for her sister- after all, she's been happy with Kristoff. But most of their friends were now dead, and Anna was still alive and beautiful, even if her youth was slipping away_}.

Elsa could feel her sister's eyes boring into the back of her neck, but she ignored it, turning instead to gossip with Felicia Facilier, who stood proud in a traditional Zulu beaded dress {_she'd spent years tracking down her heritage, because her spells and potions relied so heavily on olden stories, and she didn't know where the stories came from_}. Hayden held her close to his side, and she smiled. Happy.

{_She fit in at last_}.

* * *

"You know, you didn't deserve what you got," the Duchess of the Southern Isles whispered in her ear. The snow queen whipped around, hand pressed to her chest, eyes wide in surprise.

"Oh! Anna! I didn't notice you! Would you like my champagne? An attendant handed it to me a while back, but, well," she broke off, sending her sister and excited glance which wasn't returned, "I'm not exactly in a condition for alcohol."

The redhead seemed unmoved, pressing her lips tighter together. She did, however, take the flute from her sister, and downed the whole thing in one gulp. But she still remained silent.

"Erm, well… it's really good to see you, Anna. I thought that you and Hans didn't come to these events anymore? Not that there's anything wrong with you being here, I just thought you hated the Queens' parties?"

"Our presence was required here," Anna replied stiffly, the alcohol doing nothing to loosen her tongue, "by the High Queen herself. That's not an invitation one can refuse on the pretext of disliking parties." The white streak in Anna's hair had been joined by several more since Elsa's coronation and not the magick kind. She looked tired, where her sister looked no older than her early twenties. A queen trapped in time and a duchess trapped in a marriage. So altered by their circumstances.

"Yes, well aren't you glad you came? It's the party of the year, Evie's parties always are. And aren't the decorations simply gorgeous? She's outdone herself, this time."

"On a first-name basis with the Queens, Elsa? I suppose it's just another betrayal to add to the list, at this point?" A few tears sprung to the Queen of Arendelle's eyes. She may not love her sister anymore, or even like her very much, but they were family. And the children of the Isle had taught her to honour and cherish family. She tried to defuse the situation.

"I- yes. Evie married Hayden and me, and Mal saved my life. I've been round to the palace a few times when Hayden's been busy. They're all lovely people, Anna." The duchess's eyes narrowed.

"You know what you are, Elsa? You're a whore. Perhaps not literally," she continued quickly, seeing her sister trying to break in, "although you weren't exactly a virgin when you married Hayden. But you change yourself, sell yourself out, just to be fucking liked. I wish- I wish you'd died with mum and dad."

By this point, the sisters were drawing a fair amount of attention, with even the Kings and Queens rising from their thrones to watch. And when Anna's words rang out across the ballroom, it began to rapidly be filled with shouts. All the children of the Isle of the Lost knew how Queen Elsa had fought for their rights and safety within the Isle Court, knew she was the reason that so few of them were dead {_and the body count so still __**so**_ _**high**_}. Several people tried to come to the rescue of this _angel_ that had saved them so much pain but were held back by the sight of King Carlos, descending the staircase, heading directly towards the two sisters of Arendelle.

"Dutchess," he began, and left the acknowledgement at that {_after all, he was the King. He could do whatever he wanted_}, "_Your majesty._" He bowed to Elsa, but not the bow of acknowledgement of an equal- a bow to acknowledge a superior. The hall was, by this point, utterly silent. _Deference from King Carlos_ was unheard of. He'd always been the most secluded of the Kings and Queens, of the Iron Court. Even on the Isle of the Lost. And now, he'd named Queen Elsa his better.

"I trust that you weren't hurt, your majesty," he continued speaking to the Queen of Arendelle, ignoring her sister entirely, "and that you hold very little attachment to this _urchin_." When she shook her head, he just smiled. And then he turned to face the wife of Hans, "Your sister is worth a million of you, for she has maintained kindness in even the cruellest of circumstances, has found love in a situation she thought hopeless and has given us what we were _due_. Your sister was the hero of her story, but she held nothing against the villain, which is more than most could have said. You don't deserve to breathe her air," he broke off, grinning, "and you no longer and your husband are to leave, immediately, and never come near Elsa or Hayden ever again. If you neglect to follow my order, I'll make my mother's death look like _child's play_."

He raised his voice, allowing it to echo across the hall, "Hear this and let it be true: should you ever hurt Queen Elsa again, the wrath of Pestilence shall rain down upon you. Duchess Anna of the Southern Isles, so it is said, so it shall be." His spouses' voices echoed him, "_So it is heard, so it shall be." _And the vindictive smile on the King's face was enough to send Anna scurrying for the door, and set the guests off, cheering wildly. And Elsa just smiled.

"Well, now that that fun is out of the way," Queen Evie's voice sounded from the balcony where she stood, "the High Queen has an announcement." All attention turned to the thrones, and Mal stood up, smiling.

"It's been just less than a year since I killed my husband," there were cheers, "and since we took what was rightfully ours!"

"But this is now a kingdom, and kingdoms must be run. And Evie and I have sworn to never have heirs." This time, the hall was deathly silent, "But we know someone who already has." Elsa's eyes widened, and she knew what was coming before Mal said it.

"Once the Iron Court chooses to abdicate, the Child of Queen Elsa shall rule."

{_We trust you._}

"Mine save yours once, Elsa. One day, yours shall save mine."

The cheers were deafening.


	67. Avarice: Chapter 5

_Five_

Sally-Anne didn't live in a palace. But she lived in a glorious mansion and embraced all the luxuries she'd never had on the Isle of the Lost. She was young, only nineteen when Queen Mal killed her husband and took over Auradon with Evie and Jay and Carlos, but she relished in the freedom that was granted to her. And she changed.

On the Isle of the Lost, her Daddy would lock her up on Samhain, would keep her away from the Kings and Queens and anyone he dubbed a 'freak'. But Sal {_for she wasn't Sally-Anne anymore, not really. She'd changed too much to be the innocent Daddy's girl she'd been the day she'd met Queen Mal_} now went wild, running free on Samhain, joining the rituals she could find and celebrating in the magick of Queen Mal and Felicia and anyone who practised. She wore dresses woven of the finest silks and magicks and carried herself the same way Queen Evie used to {_when she was nothing but a seductress, before she was a Queen_}, flirting and taking and loving freely {_she ran from her past, took control of the __**one**_ _thing that had been taken from her_}. Sally-Anne's dad had been imprisoned because of his _childishness_, so that was the one thing she swore to never be, and she grew up as soon as possible.

* * *

When Sal needed something, she took it. Or, rather, she made sure it was _given_ to her. And she knew that Mikhail Medusa had an original _Jessie_ doll, one that didn't move or talk, but just stood still, stood proud. And she _wanted_ it {_wanted to remember that she was __**more**_ _than someone's toy, more than her daddy_}. So she ran to the boutique one evening, just before it was to close, and slipped in through the door, taking careful steps to not let the bell ring. And there he stood, Mikhail Medusa, smirking slightly {_he knew all about Sal's exploits. He knew she'd learned from the best. And he knew that he'd bested the best_} and leaning on the glass counter, right above the doll that Sal knew would be hers by the end of the night. And so, she began her attack.

"Mikhail Medusa, right? My name's Sally-Anne Phillips. Though, most just call me Sal," she flashed a brilliant smile, and the stone-cold man briefly _smiled_. Then he schooled his face.

"And Queen Evie is one of the most, I suppose?"

_He'd heard of her. That __**would**_ _make it harder. But she'd still succeed. That doll would be __**hers**__._

"Well, yes. She gave me the name. It would be odd if she didn't use it, wouldn't it?" And Mikhail actually _laughed_, a full-bellied laugh that burst from somewhere deep within him.

"I, ah, suppose it would," he paused, looking her up and down, assessing her, "But come now, Sally-Anne. You're not here for small talk. You're here for the doll." And the girl just prowled closer, not letting her impression show, until she was leaning over the counter, practically nose-to-nose with the owner of _Mikhail Medusa's Boutique and Pawn Shop_.

"No, I guess I'm not. However, now that I'm here, and enjoying the small talk, I think I might stay awhile. Maybe the doll isn't the only thing I'm after."

"Well, then you'll be waiting for a long time, sister. I don't _do _relationships, in case you hadn't heard." {_Oh, but she had. She knew that the Tremaine cousins had propositioned him and that he'd said no, and she knew that he'd turned down Queen Evie herself_}

"And why is that, Mikhail? Is it because you're entirely uninterested? Or because you haven't found _the one_ yet? Or maybe it's just the sex. You and Lei did have a relationship for a few days before she broke it off on the pretext of needing to _train_."

Mikhail smiled wide, "You're smarter than they give you credit for." He put out his hand for her to shake, "Nice to meet you. I'm Mikhail Medusa, asexual, son of a drunk, owner of this boutique." Sally-Anne giggled and shook his hand, "The pleasure is all mine. My name is _Sal_ Phillips, and I'm the new owner of a _Jessie the Yodeling Cowgirl_ doll."

"Not yet."

"You were going to give her to me anyway, don't lie."

"Well, yes. But you're still being rather presumptuous."

"Wanna get married?"

"I take it back. _That's _presumptuous."

"Well?"

"Give me a week."

* * *

And she did. Every morning, Sal came into the tiny boutique (that was frequented surprisingly often) and asked if he'd marry her. And she'd stay for the rest of the day, and they'd joke and laugh and mock his customers once they'd left. And when she began to redecorate, he didn't complain. And when he leaned over and kissed her, she didn't ask for more {_somehow, in all of their overwhelming imperfections, they were perfect for each other_}.

On the last day, when she asked for the eighth time, he responded with, "I know a guy." To which she said, "_And I know a Queen._"

So, they were married in the Blood Palace, eight days after they'd met, and their vows held very little words because they'd hardly known each other, but so much substance, because they were perfect for each other. And Queen Evie was the one to say _you may kiss the bride _to her one that got away {_which made so much more sense now, and the world was back on track_}, and Queen Mal gifted them with an _island _for their wedding, and King Jay walked Sal down the aisle {_really her wedding was just perfect for her. Sudden, wild, beautiful_} and King Carlos made her wedding dress {_for he could sew just as well as Evie could. No shock, not when his mom was the ex-owner of a fashion empire_}.

* * *

"We met eight days ago. You gave me a doll and I asked you to marry me. On the first day, we shared our stories, on the second day you shared your lunch. On the third day, I decided I was in love, and on the fourth day, you kissed me. On the fifth day, we decided we'd have a perfect daughter, and we spent the sixth day describing her while you taught me to work in the boutique. Yesterday I told Carlos to design my dress, and today we're getting married. And I wouldn't have it any other way. We make perfect sense, Mikhail. And even if we're the only ones who see it, that's fine. Because I love you and you love me and I don't need to wait five years to get married, because I could hardly wait five days."

{_And from somewhere to her right, her maid of honour (__**High Queen Mal**__) nodded happily. And Sal knew what it meant. It meant __**I'm glad I saved you**__. It meant __**you've made the right decision**__. It meant __**good luck**_.}


	68. Avarice: Chapter 6

_Six_

A sixteen-year-old girl watched from _someplace_ else. She had dark eyes and skin littered with stained her mouth and chin, her hair was straggly and she was made of skin and bone. This was how she'd looked when she'd died, coughing up stood _someplace_ and watched, because that was all she could do.

She watched many people. Old allies and old enemies, people she'd never met and people she'd constantly avoided. She knew _everything_. She knew of the unborn child of the Fae Queen, and she knew about every tryst of the succubus and she knew that her father hadn't realised she'd died for a _month_. She knew the past and the future, knew every proclamation the king would pass before he'd even thought about it, knew every spell and every magick.

But there was one that she watched far, _far_ closer than anyone else. A twenty-two-year-old man, with dark hair and blue eyes, the colour of the sky on the Winter Solstice. A man with strong arms and a stronger constitution, a man who carried a sword and a gun, strapped to his back. A man with a boyfriend whose name didn't actually matter, but whom he loved anyway.

The man's name was Gaston LeGume Jr. and he was her little brother. He'd spent years trying to avenge her, and she'd spent years keeping him from discovering the truth. She could do that now, could protect him and watch over him and he wouldn't ever suffer. She'd watched him form a close friendship with Shan Lei, had watched as he'd taken her case to the Iron Court (and she'd _told_ him not to trust them, but he never _listened_), had watched as he'd killed their father (a little over a year ago, now) and she'd kept him from discovering the truth of her death, because then he'd hate her too {_and he couldn't afford to hate any more people. It was already taxing on his health, leading him into duels and battles for honour_}.

On this particular day when she was watching, she felt a pull and followed it {_well, it's not like things like this happened often. And no matter how grateful she was, death got __**boring**_}. And then she fell.

* * *

And sat upright in a pool of water, gasping for air. She still looked dead, but she could _breathe _and she could _feel _the cool water on her cheek, so this was good enough. After all, she'd _wanted _to die. She glanced around frantically, trying to find the one who'd summoned her. When she saw no one, she tried to push herself out of the rocky pool, only to encounter a voice warning her against it. Felicia Facilier stepped out of the shadows, "See, that pool is all that's grounding you to this world. Climb out, and your spirit will dissolve, for forever."

Gizelle (for that was the name of the spirit) cautiously sank back down into the water, letting it submerge her until her shoulders. She watched Felicia silently (six years of nothing but _watching_ makes a soul stagnant) wondering why the girl would call her. She, of all people, knew exactly _why_ Gizelle was dead. Knew _how_ she was dead. Knew that Gizelle _wanted _to be dead. But before she could ask any questions, Felicia called someone into the room. A man, with black hair and blue eyes, with more weapons than he needs, with tanned skin and bulging muscles. A man that Gizelle has been watching over since her death.

"_Gaz!_" is all she manages to choke out. She can't cry {_she's dead_} but it feels as if she's coming close. He approaches her, inspecting her face. He goes to grab her chin to force her to face him, but his hand goes straight through her.

"It's living matter. Doesn't interact well with the dead," Felicia advises, but neither sibling really listens. They just stare.

Eventually, Gaz is the first to breaking the silence, bursting into rapid-fire French, "_Je ne savais pas si ça marcherai et Felicia m'a dit que ça me coûterai, mais je devais te voir. Tu m'as tellement manqué Gizelle. Et aujourd'hui, nous obtenons justice. Dis-moi qui t'a tué ma sœur, qui t'a donné le poison que tu as avalé de ton propre gré ? Les Rois et Reines m'ont promis qu'ils souffriront."_

And Gizelle has no response because _she'd killed herself_. She'd wanted to die and she couldn't take that from her brother. But then- as she glanced at the boy who'd grown into a sad, vengeful man- he'd suffer longer if she never told him if she let him continue with his futile quest. She steeled herself.

"_Personne."_ He stumbled back, his eyes unfocused, searching for an escape {_he is not the caged animal_}. His breathing cuts, for a moment, before he starts again, faster than before {_betrayal flickers in his stomach, fury warming it_}.

"_Je devais te protéger. Mais je ne pouvais pas le faire de l'Île de l'Oubli. Je t'aimais. Je t'ai sauvé Gaz._" she ploughed on, trying to make him understand {_it was the only way_} but he shied further from her. She crawled to the very edge of the pool, trying to reason with her brother, her charge, "_Tu as bien vécu parce que je ne le pouvais pas. Ne part pas Gaston Junior. Accepte-le. Nous ne pouvons pas changer le passé, mais tu peux vivre sans colère maintenant. Mon frère?"_

He was flinching away from her, trying to run. Mumbling.

"_Pas ma sœur. Pas ma sœur."_

And she reached for him.

Felicia screamed, but the soul of Gizelle LeGume was already dust, was already in the aether.

* * *

**_Il n'y a pas plus sourd que celui qui ne veut pas entendre._**

**Gizelle stared at the dark-skinned woman in front of her. Felicia Facilier had pitch-black eyes and more piercings than she could count. Her skin was woven with silver and bone. She was strong muscles and powerful magick was ultimate femininity. By contrast, Gizelle LeGume was small and thin, but not beautiful in the slightest {**_**maybe if she was, this could have been avoided**_**}.**

_**'Du poison. Tu es sûre ?'**_

**The sixteen-year-old nodded and took it from the Voodoo Witch in front of her. She knocked it all back in one gulp.**

_**'Tu mourras dans trois jours.'**_

* * *

_1\. I didn't know if it would work, and Felicia said it would cost me, but I had to see you. Gizelle, I've missed you like you wouldn't believe. But today we get justice. Tell me who killed you, sister. Who gave you the poison that you swallowed so willingly? The Kings and Queens have sworn they will suffer._

_2\. I did._

_3\. I needed to protect you. But I couldn't do that from the Isle of the Lost. I loved you. I saved you, Gaz._

_4\. You lived well because I didn't. Don't leave, Gaston Jr. Accept. We can't change the past, but now you can live without anger. Brother?_

_5\. Not my sister. Not my sister._

_6\. No one is as deaf as the one who does not want to listen._

_7\. Poison. Are you sure?_

_8\. You will die in three days._


	69. Avarice: Chapter 7

_Seven_

Our secret moments in a crowded room

They got no idea about me and you

Astoria wore a dress woven out of silver and spiderwebs. It hung off her shoulders, the finest silk in the world. Her lips were as dark as her eyes, and purple in colour. Diamonds dripped from her ears and solidified around her neck and wrists, making sparkle in the light. She rarely came out into the public of what was once Cinderellasburg, as she and her husband preferred to work from the shadows {_the shadows were always on their side, even when no one else was_}. She made eye contact with Dimitri, who stood across the room, socialising and working the crowd.

At functions like these, where no one knew the _true_ nature of their relationship, the Tremaines were always encouraged to act as if they were no more than cousins {_because even in their realm, where incest was legal, those who practised it were still looked down upon, still seen as __**freaks**_}.

So she spun through dances and laughed brightly, even when all she wanted was to lie in bed. And she kept herself content with slight glances and fond eyes aimed at her partner.

All of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting

My hands are shaking from holding back from you...

Dimitri wore a suit designed by Queen Evie herself, and makeup done by world-renowned artists. He danced with the most beautiful women in the world and never once made a pass at any of them. He wore cufflinks that matched his cousin's jewellery, and he wore success like an invisible crown, one that kept his head aloft and his eyes bright.

When he came out of seclusion, he knew how to flatter and charm his way into every room in the world {_but he didn't come out too often, the stinging judgement of his people an excellent deterrent_}. When he came to the parties that Astoria organised {_but rarely attended_}, he managed to betray and coerce more people than one would imagine. He told stories of his past, with a cousin that he trusted more than anyone in the world and a friend {_who was now long dead. It had nearly been five years since Mikhail's death_} who'd changed his life. All the while, he'd be slipping secret messages to his wife, written in a code they'd designed as children {_weren't they just __**so**_ _perfect for each other?_}.

Carve your name into my bedpost

'Cause I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off.

But at the end of the night {_when it was just them_} they wouldn't hold back, they wouldn't hide. They'd take to the floor, dancing like professionals {_Anastasia had taught dance on the Isle of the Lost, and they'd been her 'practise classes'_}. They'd whirl around in each other's arms, only the sound of the orchestra and their breath to accompany them.

They were each other's _forever_, they knew that much {_they'd been through too much, together_} and when there was no one left in the room, they could act like it, exchanging sweet nothings {_and wedding rings, once upon a time._

"_And you're sure about this?" Mikhail asked, straightening his best friend's suit._

"_I've never been surer of anything in my life," Dimitri responded, his breathing slow and his shoulders square, "I love Astoria. Nothing will ever change that, Mike." _

_Mikhail scowled at the nickname, before breaking into a wide grin, "Well, it's your head on the platter, mate." He clapped Dimitri on the shoulder, before opening the door for him, "Come on, the ceremony's about to start."_

"_You know," Dimitri couldn't help but get in the last word, "had you taken us up on our offer, you could have been a way bigger part of this ceremony."_

_He grinned boyishly, and his best friend just laughed, pushing him towards the altar_}.

And with those sweet nothings came whispered confessions {"_I only bought this dress because I thought you'd like it," she'd tell him, and he'd laugh and tell her that he liked it better when she __**didn't**_ _wear it_}. Which led to their marital bed and love like it was in the beginning, when they first began {_because Dimitri and Astoria were both already Tremaines, so it wasn't as if that much changed, really_}. And in the morning, they'd fall in love all over again, remembering their past and designing their future {_together_}.

Inescapable, I'm not even gonna try

And if I get burned, at least we were electrified.

Sometimes, Astoria remembered the early moments, when she'd still thought that what they were doing was _wrong_, that they should {_could_} stop, should go back to the way it was before. Now, there was no more before, there was just the buildup, and the result. Now, they were rejected by _so many_ {_Gaston Jr., with a sibling that he'd loved, hated them the most because he couldn't imagine that love changing, not the way it had for the Tremaines_}. But they were _in love_, so they couldn't give a _fuck_.

And sure, people scorned them and snubbed them, but those people were worth _nothing_ to the Tremaines {_who only had a place in their hearts for each other, now_}.

Flashback to my mistakes

My rebounds, my earthquakes

Even in my worst lies, you saw the truth in me

"Do you think we could have loved him?" Astoria asked one night when they lay next to each other, bare between the sheets.

"I don't know," Dimitri responded, pulling her closer, "I like to think so. But I know Sally-Anne loved him, and that's enough for me."

Astoria pushed herself up on her elbows, facing her husband, "Well, obviously. I'd never have split them. But when we asked him to join us- the first time. Do you think he would have been happy if he said yes?" Insecurity flickered in her eyes, and Dimitri wanted to give her the answer she so craved.

But he couldn't.

"No."

When she pulled back, hurt, he rushed to continue, "Our relationship is so very _physical_," he told her, running his hands down her arms, "And we both know that he _wasn't_. I loved him as much as you did, but everything worked out for the best."

"He's dead now," she accused, eyes filling with tears, "How is that for the best?"

And Dimitri pulled her against his chest, soothing her, "I don't know," he whispered into her ear, "_I don't know. The Lord works in mysterious ways,_ Astoria. He's doing this for a reason."

And his wife nodded silently, pulling him into a kiss. "_The Lord works in mysterious ways_," she reaffirmed.

They fell back into bed, reassuring each other through touches and breathy whispers {_the loss of their friend had struck them deeply, but the Tremaines were strong, stronger than they could have imagined. So they went through their life, honouring Mikhail and each other __**because they had nothing else**_}.

You made your mark on me, golden tattoo

_Only bought this dress so you could take it off_


	70. Avarice: Chapter 8

_Eight_

Miranda Gothel's room in the Blood Palace was beautiful. It was light, large french windows letting in light while filtering out the rays that had caused her skin to blister the first time she'd stepped out of her tower. There were no curtains, as she refused to ever be cornered into one room again {_although she didn't actually leave her room much, the lack of curtains meant she'd never be truly sealed off from the rest of the world_}. It was a circular room, the entire floor carpeted with the softest materials found in all the world. A huge bed was slotted into the wall perfectly, made specifically for the room. Double doors opened into a giant closet and bathroom, tiled and brightly lit with fluorescent lighting.

The rest of the walls were encompassed by bookshelves that reached up to the ceiling, nearly two stories above the floor. Books floated between shelves, rearranging themselves as Miranda pleased, zooming into her hands when summoned. The books ranged through every genre, every age, every edition and every author filled the shelves by colour, or alphabetical order, or whatever Miranda had decided on.

Except for one shelf.

It held texts of languages that had been lost for centuries, information on creatures and gods and everything in between, stories and journals she'd collected that had taught her more about the pattern, about the design of the higher power {_she hesitated to give It a name, but she knew that in the times of Auradon, there had been an entire religion that surrounded this power, that named it the Creator_}. Each text held its own place and was never touched by any magick other than that it had already imbibed when Miranda had found it. They were arranged in chronological order of their content, so that the presence of Hela, for example, never came before the White Horseman.

The last time someone had tried to touch the books, her eyes had rolled back into her head, and she'd begun to scream {_that person was __**dead**_ _now, courtesy of the Kings and Queens_}. She'd been weak for months, but she'd insisted on sleeping on the floor in front of the bookcase, the concept of the tomes even being _touched_ sending her into a panic attack.

Now, she stood in the exact centre of the room, her position sending flashes through her mind, images of an eight-year-old girl with regrets and a terrible future {_a young girl stood in the centre of a circular room. Her dark hair reached her shoulders and was held back from her face by a faded yellow ribbon. She wore a plain black frock with a white apron tied around her chest. She wore school shoes and white socks that came up to her knees. She stared straight into her own eyes, into the dirty mirror that lined every room of the wall_}. Her head was thrown back and her breathing deep. Something was coming {_a minor repetition. Patterns within patterns, spirals within spirals_}. A door slammed, and her eyes snapped open {_something rattled, and the chipped door slammed against one of the mirrors, spreading the cracks further across the gleaming walls_}.

A King walked in.

Miranda's face lit up, "Carlos!" she exclaimed, bouncing towards him and enveloping him in a hug. The King laughed as he returned the hug, his fur coat covering both of them. He brushed her dark hair out of her face, "We're going to have to cut your hair soon." Unlike Rapunzel, Miranda had elected to keep her hair long after the death of her mother, although it wasn't _quite_ as long as it had been, once upon a time {_it came down to the dimples on her lower back. "Much more manageable," she'd joke, even when pulling the worst knots out of the bottom of her hair_}.

Miranda just smiled at him. They had never gotten that much time alone {_Mother Gothel's tower was notoriously hard to sneak into, and Miranda never left the tower_}, and Carlos's responsibilities as king often seemed endless.

"Tell me about everything! What's going on? How's Mal? And Queen Elsa's baby? Does she like the name I picked out? I wasn't sure about being asked to do it in the first place, and I settled on the first name I thought of. But it's just _so perfect_ for the pattern, my King. That little girl could never have truly felt comfortable under another name, I don't think."

The blond King smiled at his pseudo-sister, her enthusiasm spilling over and into him. "Everything?" he asked, his eyes following her movements fondly as she extracted herself from his embrace and flitted around the room, collecting her "visitors kit" (as she called it). She hummed in confirmation, spreading a picnic blanket {_it was customary, rather than necessary_} and handing Carlos one of the bright red apples she kept in a basket {_handpicked by Queen Evie_}.

And they spoke for hours, Carlos taking her advice on all forms of matters of state and defence, listening and learning from the girl that had taught him what he was worth, even when his mother would kick him to the curb or leave him out in the cold.

When the conversation was winding down, he motioned to one of the guards at the door, and they handed him the gift he'd originally come to bring. Miranda had drifted into a state of complete relaxation and calm, her eyes unfocused and her mind running at a thousand miles per hour. He shook her gently, and she came back to the room, a smile plastered across her face.

"I have something for you," he told her, careful to not let his face betray anything as he handed her the wrapped gift. She tore into the paper excitedly, coming to an abrupt halt when she finally unveiled the gift. She looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears.

"Oh!" she exclaimed softly, "Of Carlos, she's beautiful! I- is the queen sure?" When he nodded, she threw herself into his arms. They sat like that for nearly half an hour until he gently extracted himself at the call of Evie, who stood at the door {_no one entered the sanctuary without the explicit permission of Miranda. It just __**wasn't**_ _**done**_}.

* * *

A frame stood alone on the table next to the bed. The frame itself was made of silver and crystal, intricate carvings all around the picture inside. A baby girl, with thick white hair and dark eyes {_the eyes of her father, dark, dark eyes that pierced people's souls_} stared up at her while clutching a silk blanket. Or rather, a blanket that had once been silk, but now seemed to be made mostly out of fluid ice. The baby wore a thin circlet, marking her as the Heir of the Iron Court.

On the back of the frame was a note handwritten by the Queen of Arendelle herself, dark ink staining parchment.

_Hero, Princess of Arendelle and Heir to the Iron Court. Goddaughter of Miranda Gothel. Taken on the day of her birth._


	71. Avarice: Chapter 9

_Nine_

Uriah spent most of his life dead. He'd died at the age of seventeen and honestly couldn't remember it that well anyway {_it had been hundreds of years since his death_}. Hayley had said it was natural when he first came to her with the realisation that he couldn't remember what the Tank looked like. He'd stared at her for a while, on her throne with a four-year-old on her lap, and then he'd shrugged and gone on. He had since regarded the fact that he didn't remember being alive with a vague sort of interest that erred on the side of apathy. It didn't matter.

The Underworld was his _real_ home. Hayley had certainly implemented some large changes with her conquering of the Gods, but mostly he saw them as being for the better. She had a morbid sense of style, but an excellent ability for control, and so her regime quickly saw a far more efficient (and beautiful) Underworld put into play.

He watched as a spirit entered through the giant glittering gold doors {_stolen from the palace on Olympus_} and stood in awe and confusion. It was swept up by Charon, who held a clipboard and wore a blazer and jeans {_trying to keep with the times, he said, even though the look was nearly three hundred years old_}. Charon looked the soul up and down and checked the clipboard once. Then he led it to the Incineration. That had been Hayley's plan. Everyone who hadn't been memorable hadn't been anyone {_in one way or the other_} was destroyed. The rest of them… well.

They walked through the shining marble halls of the Palace of the Underworld, to Hayley's throne. They wandered through the corridors, marvelling at the treasures of millennia, a requiem lost to time leading them to their new Queen, where they bowed at her feet and she _personally_ read out their sentence, damning them or saving them. Kronos would come to drag away the sinners to the racks, and he would beat them and mutilate them until he was satisfied {_after which, he'd leave them for the rest of the Demons of Hell_}. Charon would lead those who were to be celebrated to Elysium {_avoiding the Underland/the Fields of Asphodel/Purgatory entirely_} to the others like them {_that definition varied largely. Anita Radcliffe, for example, resided in Elysium, but her husband and daughter were kept under __**special**_ _care of Kronos_}.

Uriah was a special case. He'd _wanted_ to die {_or so he'd been told_} but he was a Hero of the Reckoning. So he'd been given free reign of the Palace, and indeed the Underworld. But being dead led to one growing bored easily, and he'd never seen the world {_so, one night he escaped, using the stairs of Orpheus. He'd become a ghost, intangible and yet __**powerful**__, and he'd relished in the thrill of it_}.

And Hayley gave him a _job._ The God of Ghosts, of Hopes and of Regrets and all those nasty things that came with death.

He spoke with Mal (Death) a lot these days.

So when Charon took the soul off to the Incineration, he followed after them silently, staying in the shadows and following the _life force_ that came from the spirit, more than anything else. He heard the whispers of Charon to the spirit, that it would be going to a _better_ life, that this was the cycle of _reincarnation_ {_a lie, but who cared? They all had a job to do_}. And when the spirit reached out to touch the pure _black _that would decimate it, Uriah saw his chance. He swooped in, singing softly to it {_this was how he'd been taught. Lure in they prey first_} and it turned to him, entranced.

From behind it, Uriah saw Charon's face twist into a grimace {_this had become something of a competition, over the years. Would Uriah suck the life force out of the spirits, or would Charon destroy it first?_} as the soul ghosted closer, eyes unfocused, becoming less _substance_ every second until it was right in front of him. And he _absorbed _it, relishing in the rush of the soul's life story flooding through his system, living an entire life out in the span a mere seconds.

He and Charon exchanged a silent challenge.

* * *

Kronos stood at the doors. Uriah had never quite understood Hayley's pseudo-son-slash-lover. He'd known the boy since before he'd been able to walk, but Kronos had always been _off_. He hadn't spoken until he was nearly thirteen, communicating silently with his mother.

When he had begun to speak, he was joking and yet harsh towards Uriah, who had always felt like something of an uncle to the boy. With his pure white skin and pitch-black eyes, Kronos had always looked like he should be ruling over the spirits that chose to not come back to where they began. But he'd tended towards more violent career paths, preferring to torture those who were sentenced to damnation, rather than track and release those who didn't want to leave.

But if Kronos stood at the door, someone truly _terrible _was coming. The last time he'd stood at the door, Dr Facilier had come through {_special envoy from Felicia, who was still alive and kicking, but who had decided that she wanted to __**see**_ _her father suffer, not just __**know **__that he was_}.

Queen Evie the Angelic walked through the doors.


	72. Avarice: Chapter 10

_Ten_

_Felicia Facilier: Special Advisor to the High Queen_ read the plaque on the door. It was carved in gold and inlaid with ruby, and it was far more beautiful than any sign she'd ever had before.

A little way below that there was a second sign (well, it was really no more than a note). It was scribbled hastily on parchment, the ink collecting in globs on the corners of characters. It read, in spiky handwriting, _No Fortunes Told_. Scribbled underneath that, on the door itself: _no lies neither_.

High King Jay started at this door. All three his lovers often popped in and out of Felicia's offices, collecting tea cakes and advice and something called _vetkoek_ from the woman. But the two of them hardly came into contact. He still resented her, for hurting Mal all those years ago {_even though Mal was the one who __**came**_ _to her_} and she made a general habit of avoiding people who wished her ill. Now, though…

He leaned against the railing of her porch, staring at the door. Her home was picturesquely suburban, like something out of hose Auradon documentaries that they'd play in high school when the projectors worked and the teachers were present and a billion other conditions were met. He stared at the golden knocker, replaying the scenario in his mind: he'd go up, and she'd open the door before he touched the gold. She'd ask if he was here to kill her, and the animosity would crackle between them, to the point where he'd turn around without having said a word, and this would all be for nought. He gazed at the door, before turning to leave. _Not worth it_.

And that would, of course, be the exact moment that Felicia stepped out and locked her door behind her, hair pulling out of its braids and dress falling off her left shoulder. Their eyes locked, and she slowed down, hands coming to her sides. She twirled the keys between her fingers and steadily looked him up and down.

"Well, I suppose you'd better come inside."

The interior of her house looked exactly like it had on the Isle of the Lost (_except maybe cleaner_). There were shelves stacked with alcohol and potions, were bones hanging on the walls and everything had a place. The only noticeable difference was the absence of the pile of bloodstained rags in the corner, which signalled to Jay one thing- Felicia Facilier no longer provided abortions.

Jay sat silently and watched as Felicia made two cups of tea, pouring what looked like half the sugar pot into hers and leaving his black. She set the teacup down in front of him, the fine china clinking quietly. He opened his mouth to speak, but she shook her head, stirring her tea. So they sat, eyes holding each other, neither looking down to their cup. Felicia raised her cup to her lips, still not breaking eye contact. Her lip piercings made quiet _pings _as they came into contact with the gold rim. And still, neither of them spoke.

She drank her tea fast, then, setting down only the thick layer of sugar that clung to the bottom of her cup. Jay's eyes followed the cup down, but he didn't dare say anything, not while Felicia's eyes pierced into his soul {_he didn't know the rituals of this woman Mal trusted so well, and he refused to break decorum_}.

"Well, Son of Jafar?" He tensed at the name. The last time someone had called him the Son of Jafar, he'd beheaded them where they stood, "Don't hesitate. I am not a patient woman." Now he was on more solid ground.

"I wouldn't make it so that you needed to be," he told her with a wink. She remained stoic and unreactive.

"I know what you want, Son of Jafar. What I want to know is what you're willing to give for it." And there it was. No ultimatums, no dodging the subject. Just price, just bargaining {_Jay and Felicia would never recognise how similar they were, but everyone else did_}. His tea cooled on the table, still as full as when he'd received it, "You _should_ be doing it free of charge. For your Queen."

Felicia responded with a feral smile, "I don't serve under the monarchy. If anything, the High Queen serves under me." Her brutal honesty, the characteristic that drove away so many customers, cowed even the High King. He fell silent, debating internally. The grandfather clock in the corner ticked loudly, and Jay said the one thing that might have caught her attention.

"Three wishes."

Her eyes glinted, but she betrayed no other emotions, "Why should magick make me agreeable. I have magick."

"You have voodoo. Voodoo and magick, despite what you tell your customers, have very different properties. And you want things that voodoo can't get you."

"And your wife wants something that magick will never get for her."

Jay picked up the teacup and drank, swallowing the entire cup, "You got anything stronger?"

"Nothing you could stomach."

They stared at each other, neither one's pride willing to admit that they desperately wanted what the other was offering. Neither one willing to hold out their hand, to begin the transaction {_who wanted it more?_}.

The High King broke first.

* * *

Queen Mal stretched out in the silken bed. Her palms brushed against something. She froze in position, muscles taut and a spell to torture on her tongue. She gently reached out to touch the object again and felt life and _magick_ {_and something foreign_} pulsing beneath her skin. She sat up wildly, eyes wide. Her breath constricted in her throat.

She stretched her back, and they stretched with her.

Wings made of the purest element: _dragon fire_. Held in place by slices of moonlight, threaded with veins through which held voodoo, black and thick like blood.


	73. Avarice: Chapter 11

_Eleven_

She knew that Li Lonnie had stopped running. She didn't know when- likely at some point in her four-month retreat into the ranks of the Huns after her father's death. The planning of the honouring ceremony and subsequent need to stay and run the tribe had kept her from the pursuit of her final enemy: the daughter of Fa Mulan.

So, when Lei took up the hunt again, nearly six months after the Day of Reckoning, she didn't know where to start, but she knew there would be a point when she could stop. She may have stopped actively pursuing Li Lonnie, but had still been keeping tabs on her, getting updates from the small bars and farmhouses the girl sometimes ventured into, seeking food and shelter.

But now, she was growing closer. _She could feel it_. The daughter of Mulan wasn't miles away, wasn't even a few blocks away. She'd be around this corner, or the next one, and then Lei would _kill_ her and her lifelong quest would be fulfilled {_and Fan would be avenged, because their father may have killed her, but it was __**Mulan's fault**_}. And so Lei crept, silently, through the woods that Briar Rose had once run through, waiting for her moment. Until she heard _voices_.

"She's going to kill me, H. What we have won't matter to her," that was the voice of Li Lonnie. It may have been half a year since Auradon existed, but her voice still held the accent of the inhabitants, inflections on her a's and o's. She spoke like she would one day be a queen, like all the other pretty princesses of Auradon {_even though she would never have ruled China. Its rule would have passed to her little brother_}. But what brought Lei to a halt was the voice that responded, a familiar voice.

"I ain't gonna let 'er," responded an _Isle accent_, the accent of Helena Hook. She and Lei had never been close, but they had sparred in secret {_the good Captain had never approved of his daughter's exploits, her forays into piracy. Women weren't made to be pirates, they were made to cook and clean_}, and Lei had thought of them as _friends_. But this was a betrayal of everything the children of the Isle of the Lost stood for. Everything they _were_ {_loyalty amongst thieves and traitors and villains_}.

So Lei edged closer, keeping her position concealed until she could see the two women. They lay chest-to-chest under a flannel blanket, a fire dying down at their feet. The rays of dawn glittered against their cheeks, and they were kissing gently. But even _true love_ {_that didn't fucking exist_} wouldn't deter Lei. This was her life's goal, and Helena _couldn't _begrudge her that {_she knew that Captain Hook was wasting away in a cell in the __**Blood Palace**__, waiting for the acid bath that was being prepared by order of Queen Evie_}.

_But Li Lonnie was smiling_. That was what broke through Lei's carefully plotted plan. The daughter of Mulan had no _right_ to be happy, not after what Mulan had done to the Huns, to _China_ {_vassal state_}. She stepped out into the clearing, langseax in hand {_sure, a spear would be more efficient, but this was about revenge and pain, tradition and honour_}.

"I've waited a _very_ long time to meet you, Li Lonnie. Daughter of Fa Mulan, heiress presumptive of China. And now I'm going to kill you," she turned her attention to Helena, "you're not going to stop me, Helena. I've waited too long. She's the last one." Li Lonnie let out a sob {_weakling. I watched Fan die, and I didn't shed a tear_}, and Lei prowled towards her final victim {_the end of a dynasty_}.

Helena Hook blocked her path.

"No," the single word made the Empress of the Huns standstill. The two daughters of the Isle stood in a standoff, neither willing to back down, neither willing to let the other win, "On what rights?" Lei finally responded. The ways of the Isle were the easiest fallback, methods both women understood.

"The Right of Conquest, under the House of Hook," Helena was visibly trembling, and her voice was thick with tears, "I call upon trial by combat." She glanced back to her girlfriend, who stood frozen, hand on her dadao, "With Li Lonnie representing the House of Hook."

Lei held her head high {_she knew how to win this; take it to those who hate Auradon the most_}, "And High King Jay the Avenger representing the House of Shan."

* * *

"Do you know what true love is?" Gaston Jr asked her one day. They were sitting in an old bar, one built at the same time as the nation of Auradon. They both drank alcohol strong enough to down three grown men and hardly flinched.

"I know it doesn't exist," Lei told him, not meeting his eyes {_the only one she loved could never love her back, her sister was dead, Mulan's legacy lived on, and her father didn't want a daughter_}.

"You're wrong," he told her, and she looked up.

"It's like- if you saw Mulan's daughter, right now, no Helena, just her, would you kill her?" _Yes_. It would result in her own death, but the Huns would survive, and Fan would be avenged.

She didn't have to say it.

"Exactly!" He gestured to her, "That's true love. It's not romantic, but who says it has to be?" He stopped abruptly, eyes focused on something no one else could see, "I'm gonna go see Felicia soon. Summon Giselle," his eyes snapped back to hers, "I think that that's true love."

He stood up and left, leaving her to get their (rather large) tab. She flipped him off without looking, trying to sort through all the information she'd just been given. She doubted he meant to confuse her like this. He probably just wanted her to understand that there was no talking him out of it this time {_she'd been keeping him from Felicia for years; she had her own suspicions about his sister's death_}, but he'd given her more to think about than she'd expected from this meeting.

Her head sank into her hands, elbows propped against the dining table. She stayed that way for a long time.


	74. Avarice: Chapter 12

_Twelve_

When Gianna Ratcliffe was fourteen, she lost her voice. She'd been hiding another body {_there was dead bodies laying all over the Isle of the Lost, but this one's complexion made her __**sick**_ _to her stomach, and so she went into the woods, the territory of the Huns, and left the dismembered body there_} when she stumbled through Coward's Market {_full of bullshit. Mal was kissing and being kissed by the white-haired boy, and the voices in her head shrieked about him spoiling his __**human, white**_ _bloodline with faerie blood_}. To avoid the _king and_ _half-blood queen_, she ducked through the alleyway that led to the church. It rarely used, that could easily be said. Claude Frollo was the only one who ever frequented it {_she didn't know if he ever left_}. The Descendants of all the really interesting people were not interested in being saved.

It was there that she saw it. _Queen Evie the Whore_ pressing Helena Hook against the church wall, hand up her skirt. The girls were frantically kissing, and Helena was grinding down as if she would _die_ if she didn't. And Gianna smiled.

_Faggots_. The voices screamed. _Dykes. Kill them. Bathe in their blood_. And she really thought about it. Thought about the joy that would come from _ripping_ Evie to pieces, thought about her father clapping her on the back and hugging her close.

She didn't do it.

She would have, if not for the Succubus Queen looking up at that second, an exact replica of her mother. Queen Grimhilde, beautiful even in her old age, would _destroy_ her daughter if she knew that she was a _homosexual_. And so Gianna just smirked at Evie and slipped into the shadows.

Gianna Ratcliffe woke up strapped to a chair, gagged and bound {_which was odd, as she distinctly remembered going to bed on the one mattress in her father's shack_}. There was a table in front of her, and Evie sat across from her. The _dyke_ smiled, and a force from behind ripped the gag from Gianna's mouth.

"_Cunt ain't kinky enough for you, your majesty?"_ she spat, a demented smile painted across her lips, "_You into bondage now? Non-consensual shit? Seems about right for a dyke."_

The demon's eyes darkened, staring Gianna down.

"_You saw something you weren't supposed to, Gianna. And now you're gonna have to pay for it,"_ if Gianna could, she would have slit her own wrists at that very second, for the _sinful_ thoughts she was having {_the demeanour of the queen was a fucking turn on. She wondered how loud she could make the bitch scream_}.

"_Sign the contract, Gianna,_" it had been laid out on the table, neatly calligraphed on white paper, a pen laying next to it {_she knew those. Imbibed with magick. Made the contract unbreakable_} and Gianna didn't even have to look at the writing to know that she got _nothing _from that contract.

"_And if I don't?"_ She was snarling, but the corners of her lips turned up.

Next thing she knew, she had a lapful of a succubus. Evie, violently pressing her lips to Gianna's own, taking the Aryan girl's head in her hands and _kissing_ her, hard. When she pulled back, Gianna was _weak_ {_not just with __**want**__. The queen had pulled the life from Gianna's body_}. And she just _smiled at_ Gianna, as if she knew what the girl was thinking {_the lover of a truthseeker. Of course, she knew what Gianna was thinking_}.

Gianna signed the contract, the voices in her head screaming that _she should just let the queen kill her, rather than live life as a fucking faggot_.

It is hereby stated in this contract, as signed by Genevieve Amara Grimhildejardöttír (G.A.G.) and Gianna Anelle Ratcliffe (G.A.R.), that G.A.R. will surrender her voice to Mikhail Medusa. Her voice may be returned under the following conditions:

One: Grimhilde White is dead.

Two: G.A.G., Maleficent Morgana le Fay, Jay Jafarson, and Carlos de Vil have all officially voiced their approval.

Three: Mikhail Medusa has officially voiced his approval.

Four: G.A.R. has not slaughtered an innocent based on their skin colour or sexual orientation from this date onwards.

* * *

Gianna Ratcliffe was twenty-one when she was gifted her voice back. It had taken months of formalities, navigating and negotiating {_no one expected Mikhail Medusa to be __**dead**__; eventually, the Kings and Queens allowed for Dimitri and Astoria Tremaine to agree on behalf of Mikhail_}. And Queen Evie the Angelic {_the words like poison in her mouth_} had just killed her mother on live television, the first televised killing of this new era.

Her first words, before she strolled out the doors to find that redskin whore Pocahontas were, "Thanks, dyke."

{_Queen Evie responded that it took one to know one before pulling Jay down and kissing him harder than she'd ever kissed Gianna_}.

{_Gianna was found and sentenced to death not ten minutes after the death of Pocahontas at the hands of John Smith- the Kings and Queens had been waiting_}.


	75. Avarice: Chapter 13

_Thirteen_

Genevieve had always attended Claude Frollo's sermons. It had started as tradition, her mamma taking her every Sunday to be absolved of her sins. They sat in the polished wooden pews {_the church was the only facility on the Isle that's upkeep was sponsored by the United States of Auradon until the implementation of the Adam Beast Hospital for the Needy_} and let the stained glass {_depicting the portraits of Cinderella on the steps of the palace and Snow White in her coffin_} cast coloured shadows across their faces. Genevieve would always leave confession with a pretty boy that had stayed by the large oak doors {_to please her mama- she never slept with them_}.

{_Except for the last sermon. Father Frollo had been preaching Exodus 22:18, and he'd licked his lips when she caught his eye. That always meant the same thing. She'd waited until everyone had left, the window panes casting long shadows over her face before she acted. She'd slipped into the confessional._

"_In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. My last confession was a week ago," she took a deep breath, "I have agreed with my lover's choice to get an abortion. I have allowed myself to discard the bodily safety of others so that I could give myself sexual gratification. I have been sexually active outside of marriage, partaking in sexual activities with both women and men. In this sexual activity, I have intentionally used a contraceptive to prevent procreation. I have taken the Lord's name in vain."_

_The confessions were more habit than anything else. Most people on the Isle of the Lost had done worse. Father Frollo didn't really care. The penances he dealt out were harsh, though, as if his confinement to the Isle made him more desperate to show off the power he believed the Lord had given him {__**even though the power He had given Evie was monumentally greater**__}._

"_For these and all the sins of my past life, I ask pardon of God, penance, and absolution from you, Father," she had kneeled in the confessional, silent, as Father Frollo determined what her penance would be. When he did speak, it was with a deep voice that rasped and dragged across certain words, "For your penance, you will read the book of Genesis tonight, you will recite Laudes Divinae and you will say ten Hail Mary's."_

_She had recited the Act of Contrition and waited. To be absolved of her sins. But Frollo didn't say anything {__**and in her, she knew. That was her moment**__}. She had stepped, silently, out of her confessional and into the father's. His eyes had widened {__**maybe he hadn't expected her to be so forward, but fuck you, she was a Queen and a succubus, and she hated submitting**__}. She had climbed into his lap {__**oh so carefully**__}, placing her knees on either side of him, the boots she wore covering half her thigh {__**but the dress she wore was one of Jay's old shirts that she'd refashioned, and so it was short enough that her mother didn't complain**__}. Claude Frollo had taken her by her waist and pulled her in, allowing her to bring her lips down on his, __**hard**__. And they'd kissed, violently and fiercely, his wrinkling skin feeling __**off**_ under her_ unblemished one, but also __**so good**__. And her dress had been unbuttoned, exposing her breasts, and the father was surprisingly good at touching women, for a man who was sworn to remain chaste, a man who had never married._

_**Evie had left the confessional with lipstick staining her teeth and a smug grin on her face that betrayed another confession to approach.**_}

* * *

The Hunchback of Notre Dame had been extremely satisfied with her gift, Queen Evie the Angelic thought, pleased. She and Mal made a tradition of attending the Feast of Fools, and this year, she'd brought a gift for the host, wrapped up in the outfit of his ex-master. Claude Frollo had screamed when The Hunchback ate his heart {_homage to Evie's slaughter of her own ex-master_} and the Father's screams hadn't sounded that different to his moans {_she remembered those well_}.

{_When they'd arrived in Auradon, she'd discovered that their tormentors were Protestant. Their Prince hadn't been baptised, had never been to confession {__**what would the darling Princeling of Auradon have to confess?**__}. The official statement Auradon Prep revolved around 'belief in religious freedom', but she'd seen the Fairy Godmother force Alya to remove her hijab, citing it as "a symbol of Eastern oppression" and she'd seen __**Ben **__handing out a detention {__**one of his rights as King**__} to Carlos when he refused to sing the Lord's Prayer {__**God forbid Ben discover that Mal practised Old Religions, that she followed the belief of Morgana le Fay, the belief in transcendentalism and the Wiccan Magicks**__}. _

_(She added another strike to her tally of taking the Lord's name in vain, bringing it up to around thirty)._

_It had taken Evie nearly a year to track down a Catholic priest, and when she had, she didn't expect what she saw._

_Phoebe de Châteaupers, who was married to his heroine, Esmerelda. A man who betrayed the faith more than she did {__**she, who always begged for absolution, but committed the sins again**__} by sacrificing his religion at the altar of fitting in. Weak._

_She turned around and walked out of the chapel {__**her confession could wait until she found a real priest**__}._

_Evie didn't confess for the next five years._}

* * *

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. My last confession was five years ago," she was kneeling in the chapel she'd created a charity to build, with one of the few priests that practised in Auradon {_she had been bringing the message to the USA_}.

"I have taken the Lord's name in vain too many times to count. I have had more lustful thoughts than I can remember. I have continuously engaged in sex outside of marriage and used contraception to avoid conception. I have murdered ninety people. I have engaged in homosexual activity. I have felt Wrath, Vanity, Envy, and Avarice too many times to count. I have been gluttonous. I have caused others bodily harm. I have conspired against my King," {_less than an hour until Auradon is ours_} she confessed, knowing that the Father was bound to secrecy, "I have sacrificed the safety of a nation on the altar of power. I have accepted my place in the pattern, and so accepted myself as a goddess, below only the Lord himself."

She took a deep breath {_leaving my sins behind me as we usher in a new era_}. And she spoke again, reciting the words she knew from memory even as the Priest trembled, her confessions sinking in, "_For these and all the sins of my past life, I ask pardon of God, penance, and absolution from you, Father."_

The Father didn't ever tell her what her penance would be {_preferring to pick up a knife, deciding to be a hero worthy of Auradon, and so being struck down by the protectors of the goddess (__**King Carlos, King Jay, and the Lord himself**__)_}.

{_Evie lived to be the Angelic Queen_}.

* * *

Before she walked into the Underworld, Queen Genevieve demanded her Viaticum. By no means did she follow the Catholic faith her mother had indoctrinated into her anymore, but she still _believed_. She had believed the Lord would save her from eternal damnation, believed still that Jesus Christ would lead her into eternity.

And when the Priest asked her if she wanted to confess, she smiled and started with the rote, "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."


	76. Avarice: Chapter 14

_Fourteen_

Alya had never been like the other Descendants. She _was _a princess (or, more accurately, a _Sultana_) but she didn't dress like the other girls. At fourteen-years-old, when the other girls were braiding each other's hair, they would look at her with scorn through the side of their eyes, as she sat in her hijab (beautiful though it was, woven with glass beads). As they rejected her (and even in her fierce _pride_ of her religion, even in her most absolute conviction that the hijab was a commandment from God, something to be proud of, the tiniest part of her wanted to be like Audrey and Spring and Carla, with their pretty curls that hung around their faces) she thought of her mother, thought of the strict rules she had lived under with Jafar, his cruel ideals and his misunderstanding of Islam.

Three weeks later, Alya came home sobbing, and her mother had chased after her. They'd sat on Alya's bed for hours, talking about anything and everything, until the girl felt confident enough to bring up with her mother the true reason she was crying.

"I don't want to wear the hijab anymore, mama." Her mother had always given her great freedom surrounding religion. Although Agrabah was a predominantly-Muslim country, it had never been an Islamic State, and her mother reflected those ideals. Alya had _asked_ to wear the hijab when she was six years old and watched her mother pinning it into place. She'd liked the idea, found it a comforting way to express herself and her religion.

But when she asked, her mother had gazed upon her with the saddest eyes she'd ever seen, "If that's what you want, _ṭiflah_. But think about it first. Don't let those silly girls change you," {_Jasmine didn't know that it wasn't a 'silly girl' that had so wrecked Alya's pride, but rather the Headmistress herself_}.

The next day, Alya had arrived at school with thick brown hair in large curls that framed her face and settled on her shoulders, pinned back from her forehead by a jewelled hairpin in the shape of a lamp {_she'd taken the hairpin off by the end of the day, noticing how out-of-place it looked amongst the other girls' roses and tiaras_}. Audrey Rosiers had immediately come up to her, had fawned over her looks and told her she was much better off without the 'scarf'.

Alya said nothing.

* * *

"_Al-salāmu ʿalaykum._"

She often stayed in the Blood Palace. As the official ruler of Agrabah, diplomatic visits to the nameless land that was once Auradon {_it was taking a while, for the Kings and Queens to settle on a name_} were a must. Especially considering her new governing style.

High King Jay's insistence that Agrabah become an Islamic State had originally confused her. He had never seemed to follow the faith in the five years that they had attended school together {_but then, looking back on it, neither had she, always secluding herself before prayers and casting aside her hijab permanently only days after he'd arrived_}. But as time went on, she grew more and more comfortable as a leader of an Islamic State, and three years after the Day of Reckoning, she couldn't remember why she'd ever been ashamed of her religion {_the High King had declared jihad on the Day of Reckoning, and her protected those of his faith from the ones he and his lovers had dethroned_}.

It wasn't often, however, that she bumped into the High King himself.

King Jay was looking extraordinarily healthy, nothing like he had upon his arrival {_she'd been there for it, had had to see for herself_}. He had more scars now, but he was better filled-out, looked happier and more confident {"_He killed Cassim," said a voice in her head, but she ignored it. That sort of thought was treason, and rumour had it that the High Queen could read minds_}.

"_Wa ʿalaykum al-salām wa riḥmat Allāh wa barakatuhu,_" she responded respectfully, shifting her niqab slightly.

The King smiled at her, "How's life treating you, Alya?" He had told her, after he'd killed Cassim, that he bore her no grudge, told her he knew that she was not like her brother, who had abandoned their faith and its teachings, who had abandoned _him_. She hadn't believed him then, but she believed him now. Three years since he'd placed her on the throne of Agrabah, and he'd never dared to touch her, never required anything of her _except _for running her country under the laws of Islam {_and even then, __**she**_ _ruled, not her husband or cousin_}.

So she smiled, and burst into a speech about her new son, a baby that she'd adopted from the streets of Agrabah {_she didn't notice the look of longing that passed over the High King's face- but Mal, watching from the shadows, did_}.

Alya ruled Agrabah for many years to come, and Farouk was groomed well to rule after her.

{_And so Aladdin's daughter led Agrabah in a way that her father would've hated and Jafar would have applauded. After all, all she wanted to do anymore was survive_.}


	77. Avarice: Chapter 15

_Fifteen_

Hayley was a _goddess_.

People often seemed to forget that, even when they stood in front of her throne, the same one her father had once sat on {_Hayley was inheriting a dynasty, after all. It didn't seem right to do away with everything_}. They forgot that she was a goddess, not an _incarnation_ of one like the Kings and Queens above. They forgot she still had the magic that a Higher Power had decided _they _didn't need in this cycle.

Normally, she erased the traitor from existence. Sent them through Charon's portal, _destroyed_ them the way the Egyptians used to.

That wouldn't work with this one. Because in this case, the one who had _forgotten _her power over him was her dearest companion, her son and her lover. Kronos stood in front of her, his teeth bared in a sickening grin, the blood that coated them belonging to none an old ally of Hayley.

She didn't request much from Kronos. She'd sent him to _Queen Evie's Academy for the Wicked and the Damned _at Queen Mal's bequest but had never really bothered to monitor what Kronos did when he roamed the glittering halls of Hell. But now…

She flung the nearest object at him- an object that happened to be a pitchfork {_oh, how she loved irony_}. It left him on the marble floor, bleeding, the middle prong in his calf {_no one said she had a bad aim, even in her blind fury_}.

"_How dare you!?"_ she shrieked, flinging herself out of her throne to stalk down the stairs towards him, her anger building up with every step. "_He was my __**greatest**_ _ally, Kronos. You __**knew**_ _that. And he's a part of the cycle. He'll be reborn, and then he'll be after __**you**__. And I don't know if I'll be stronger than him this time. __**What do you expect me to do if I can't protect you next time?**_" she asked her pseudo-son softly, her voice only _just _betraying her hurt, "_What have you done to us, Kronos?"_

The demon, to his credit, merely grinned. He pulled the pitchfork from his leg and threw it to the floor, the wound closing up so fast one wouldn't believe it had ever been there. He shrugged at his mother, the blood and flesh between his teeth detracting from his charismatic attitude. But Hayley would not be distracted, not even by the man she loved.

"_You've doomed us. Do you think that Hero will leave us be? She's primed to rule, to __**destroy**_ _us. And now, now that you've slighted them…" _she trailed off, her voice breaking, "_You need to run._"

{_Kronos had been raised in the Underworld, raised on the torture of Maleficent and Grimhilde, where Hayley was raised on caution and soft power. There would always have been a day when his values came to clash with hers, and today was that day. His utter apathy, his belief that his mother was the strongest being in the world, that he was __**safe**__, was about to be irrevocably changed. And it would __**hurt**__._}

* * *

When **He** caught up to Kronos, it was _gory_. The incarnation of War, the last of **Them**. And **He** was _furious_. He dragged Kronos into his old schoolyard, the one built nearly three-hundred years ago by a Queen and a Lover. _Queen Evie's Academy for the Wicked and the Damned_ sometimes received demonstrations like this, lessons in pure _power_ and what happened when you angered the Kings and Queens. And Kronos screamed for _two days straight_ after being dragged into his alma mater, until his body couldn't take it {_couldn't take the absolute __**fury**_ _of __**MichaelAresMarsHorusThorWar**__}._ His body couldn't take the _smallest_ portion of the torture he'd doled out for years and _years _{_but then again, __**He**_ _was very good at what he did. He started with Maleficent's death and worked his way through (Gaston. Grimhilde. Jafar. Angelique. The Queen of Hearts. Captain Hook) the ranks, proving what everyone else had always known; the __**Last King**_ _was __**fucked**__, was completely __**broken**__, and without his lovers to hold him back, he'd __**destroy**_ _them_}.

But that wasn't the end of it. After his death, Kronos expected _peace _in the home he'd always known. But he hadn't counted on the sheer hatred that coursed through **His **body, hadn't counted on his victim's grieving {_immortal, adoptive_} sister. So, when he anticipated his mother's arms and a lover's comfort, he was met with the racks he knew so well and the _hatred_ of a woman scorned.

{_After he'd lost track of the time passing, his mother snuck down to see him. Brought him __**salvation**__. Brought him the God of Ghosts (and Hopes and Regrets and Lost Love and Last Wishes) and told him that he was being given a choice: cease to exist, or stay on the rack. And when he made the only choice that he __**could**_ _have, she kissed him and left {__**didn't even wait for his execution**__}_}.

* * *

Hayley didn't know as much about the pattern as Miranda did {_she was the daughter of a __**version**_ _of Hades, because the first hades had become Death when the Christians took over (__**who became Pluto who became Azriel who became Hela who became Mal**__)_} but that didn't mean she was _clueless_. She'd always known of the pattern {_sometimes, goddesses just knew things_} and she'd always known how this cycle was going to end {_at the hands of a voodoo practitioner and a God named after a Titan and the Girl who was a Contradiction_}.

So, after her lover's death, she knew- **He **would soon leave. **Their** time was up, they'd changed the course of history the way the Higher Power had wanted {_they were always his favourites_}. It didn't mean that the world was ending, just that an _era_ was. And that would hardly affect Hayley, anyhow. She was a goddess. Her father had survived many eras, and she'd survive many more {_he would too- if one could call Tartarus __**survival**_}. _She was a goddess_ she'd think, sitting in her palace even thousands of years later, her husband {_the King of Hell and the God of Ghosts_} at her side, _it wasn't __**her**_ _job to worry about the affairs of man_.


	78. Avarice: Chapter 16

_Sixteen_

Smith had received a _royal pardon_ from King James himself, as well as a _ship _of his own, an opportunity to explore the world the way he'd always wanted {_without the pressing instructions of a Governor, without the need to __**settle**_}. And when Pocahontas didn't want to come with him- well, it was terribly sad {_she'd been corrupted, wasn't the bright spirit that had once taught him so much about the world_} but he wasn't about to let go of the chance to see what was _around the river bend_.

Pocahontas was _given _that chance, but once she actually left the comfort of her village, she got _scared_. When she was given the real opportunity for _adventure_, she cowered away {_he could never forgive her, not really, not for __**this**_ _change of heart_}. He'd loved her more than just about anything else but would have given her freely to John Rolfe, as long as she continued to be the restless woman he'd fallen in love with when they met {_she hadn't_}.

_Or do you still wait for me, dream giver?_

He'd journey for many years, visiting the most beautiful lands, learning of cultures he'd never known. He went to India many times, spending many years there, but his dreams always went further. He saw the countries of _Africa_, saw the world changing and changed with it {_but never too much- never the way Pocahontas did_}.

He heard of the creation of the United States of Auradon {_was invited by Queen Belle to be an honorary citizen, but couldn't. He'd attended the official 'Opening Ceremony', but it rang too much of Governor Ratcliffe's pompous speech when they landed in Tsenacommacah. And when he saw her, corset-like a second skin and powder on her face, he turned and fled. He couldn't stand aside and watch her spirit crumble_} but hadn't stopped by in many years. And as he learned of the world's cultures, as he learnt of the riches the world provided, messages came to him, of her well being, of her life {_of her children, with good, strong English names. Missy, Elliott and John. Children who didn't speak Virginia Algonquian. So, when a woman he had loved came to him with a little girl with his hair and his eyes, he named her Shenandoah (a name he'd once heard shouted across a village as he awaited execution) so that someone could honour the culture that his __**true love **__had forgotten_}.

The next "big event" of Auradon that he was invited to was the wedding of Mal and Ben {_that was a lie. He'd been invited to the coronation, but 'forgotten' to go_}. He saw her there, too. She looked more natural than she had in _years_, but even then, her traditional dress was studded with diamonds in a way _his_ Pocahontas would have abhorred. _But that was who she was now_, he thought, and he didn't comment. Not even when she approached him cautiously, her three-month-old granddaughter in her arms {_he hadn't intended to speak to her_}.

"John."

"Pocahontas"

There wasn't really much else to say. This was who they were now- both so _different_, neither like they were when they met. And her next words proved that to him more than any dress could have.

"Actually, it's Huacaltzintli, now." He had known for many years about the naming traditions of the Powhatan but had somehow never imagined her name changing. The meaning of her nickname had been too perfect to allow her to ever go by another name.

She continued as if the change of her name hadn't entirely _shattered_ his perception of the world, "But, well, I know it's difficult to say, so I just go by Cali, most of the time."

{_He looked at her, in a culture she knew more about than he did, In a life she'd never wanted, and shook his head_}.

"Goodbye, Huacaltzintli."

* * *

When his captor returned _with a voice_, he knew it was over. It had been three years since the wedding, three years in this tiny cell with his daughter, three years in the clothes they'd worn to the wedding, three years of wondering.

Their captor smiled.

"My names Gianna Ratcliffe, Captain Smith. And if you do this one thing for me, I'll let you and your daughter go."

{_He lowered the axe. His one great act of mercy was cutting off the head of the woman he'd once loved more than life itself, the woman who had forgotten what it was to live_}.

_John Smith spent the rest of his life sailing. He wasn't under the rule of Chess, there {__**Chess- the nickname the rest of the world gave to the ex-United States of Auradon, named for its ruthless Kings and Queens and its sacrificial pawns**__}. He could just be. His daughter went on to join the crew of The Sappho, having been sailing all her life. She was a perfect fit._


	79. Avarice: Chapter 17

_Seventeen_

_Alice? __**Alice? **__Who the fuck is Alice?_

**Sweet, sweet Alice (traumatised)**

{_Under mama's thumb,_

_killing for fun,_

_in love with a psychopath,_

_PTSD from the aftermath_}

**Ruled over Wonderland, her genius unrecognised**

{_Strength in her bones,_

_on an iron throne,_

_absolutely fucking mad,_

_pretty young maenad_}

**She was a hunter (and a killer, and a freak)**

{_Along with Red, whose fingers were claws,_

_who let go of the laws,_

_who killed with no remorse,_

_who hurt her in intercourse_}

**A queen amongst women, made to be unique**

{_She'd killed her namesake,_

_(herself to unmake)_

_drove a stake through her heart,_

_the unholy counterpart_}

**Killed her husband, late one night**

{_Sleeping with that little whore_

_(starting a household civil war)_

_one night she decided- OFF WITH HIS HEAD_

_he was a much better husband when he was dead_}

**Buried his corpse beneath the starlight**

{_When he met Hayley, he smirked with pride_

_he'd done enough to be remembered, regardless of his bride_

_she condemned him to an afterlife of honour_

_he figured (when his wife came down) she was a goner_}

**She lived for many a decade more**

{_Her laws were wild,_

_creations of the devil-child,_

_she lived a life of decadence,_

_upset only by her senescence_}

**Off what she inherited from her paramour**

{_She died long before the Kings and Queens,_

_head was taken off by the guillotine,_

"_It's a shame she had to be put down," they said_

_even as Hela screamed (OFF WITH HER HEAD)_}

**When she woke in the parlour of the HellQueen**

{_She was killed because she was insane,_

_he was killed because he couldn't abstain,_

_my God, what a couple they made_

_(they were certainly not to be disobeyed)_}

**The consequences would be unforeseen.**

* * *

"_You're such an asshole!"_ she shrieked. They'd been confined to their own personal "heaven" for the time being, until they could agree to get along without disrupting the other heroes.

"You're the one who put me here, _sweetheart_," he snarled back at her, scraping his claws against the wall. It was a nice suite, but their focus wasn't on their living arrangements. Muddy brown eyes bore into silver ones, and teeth were bared in animalistic displays of dominance, "Yeah, well, you were fucking some other _whore_ that wasn't your wife, _babe_." They prowled around each other {_loved each other too much to permanently __**destroy**_ _the other, but God, they were so fucking annoying_}.

She got bored, eventually, made the first move {_sometimes, it was him who made the first move_}. She lunged, but not to injure {_there was always a definitive change in her posture, that betrayed her intentions_}. Their lips locked. This would be one of the good nights.

{_That was how they would spend eternity. Fighting and making love whenever they felt like it because that was their __**heaven**_}.


	80. Avarice: Chapter 18

_Eighteen_

The deceitful king sat at the edge of a cliff, smoking. From where he stood, he could see the waves crashing into the rock, a thousand feet below. A fur coat, made of dalmatian fur {_new dalmatians. Not the blasted puppies his mother had sacrificed his life for. __**They **__were a part of his throne, had been for a long, long time_} pooled around him, sheltering him from the harsh winds that ran over Chess {_that still wasn't the official name, but he liked it. It was less of a mouthful than "the ex-United States of Auradon"_}. He blew smoke out over the edge of the country and watched as it dissolved into thin air. Smoking still gave him the nicotine rush it had when he started. It hadn't faded with his mortal life stream, the way drinking had for Jay, the way drugs had faded for Evie {_to a point where even the cocaine she'd once loved hardly sent a tingle down her spine_}. As immortals 'aged', mortal pleasures often lost their touch, but for Carlos, whose immortality was a farce, he could live as long as he wanted, enjoying the man-made pleasures that were lost to his lovers. Mal's spell had ensured that.

{_The Spell of Hedonism was the most complicated piece of magick Mal had ever performed successfully {__**they didn't talk about the wings**__}. She'd been inspired by Oscar Wilde (as Mal was with many things) and had spent nearly two years trying to perfect the concept created in The Picture of Dorian Gray. By the time she finished, Carlos was forty-three, and it was starting to show, even though his lovers looked the same as they had on the Day of Reckoning. But Mal's power had once again triumphed, restoring him to his former beauty while a portrait of him {__**painted by the High Queen herself**__} faded, taking on his age and vices._

_Even now, nearly three hundred years after he should have died, Carlos didn't think that anything could surpass Mal's gift to him, the gift that allowed him to live alongside his lovers._

_He was wrong._}

The wind around him picked up, whipping into a frantic pace, and he knew without looking that the High Queen had settled down behind him. He turned around, and was once again caught up in her beauty {_because Evie was the fairest of all of them, but Mal encompassed a sense of radiance and power that was almost too much to behold_}. The setting sun shone through her wings, casting shadows onto the grass where it hit the voodoo powers that ran through their veins. When she reached him, she caught him in a strong embrace and held on, refusing to let go. He offered her a drag, and she turned it down {_that was out of character for her. She enjoyed the taste of cigarettes in a way he didn't, even though the drug didn't affect her anymore, hadn't for centuries_}.

She sat next to him, hanging her legs over the edge of the cliff, and lay back {_he wished he could take a picture of her like this, more carefree than she'd been for nearly a month. Something had been bothering their High Queen, all four of them knew, but they also knew that she would only speak when she was ready_}. Her body was framed by her wings, and Carlos was once again struck by the magnificence that she had {_finally, deservedly_} been blessed with. He flicked what was left of his cigarette over the cliff's edge and watched as it sailed into the air and then down, down, and lost it just before it hit the waves. He lay down next to his Queen and just watched the sky with her {_she was finally satisfied, and she'd tell him what the problem had been when she was ready_}.

They lay like that for nearly three hours {_he'd learnt that patience was a virtue that came with immortality. When you had forever, nothing had to happen now_} before anything happened. And when something did, it was exactly _unprecedented_. She rolled over to climb on top of him and began to kiss him {_but these kisses were different. Celebratory, almost_}.

"I have something to tell you," she whispered in between kisses and gasps. He smiled fondly, "I kinda figured, babe," he told her, rolling them around so that she lay in the grass, "that's the only reason any of you come out here anyway."

_Out here_ was the cliff edge, was Carlos's space. Had been, even since long before their takeover. These days, it was where he came to smoke, to think, to breathe {_to get away from the politics, because even in an absolute monarchy, there would always be politics involved when governing a state_}. But it was also the place the other knew to look first when they wanted to tell him something and he wasn't in one of their laps.

"This is big news, baby. Huge, even. It's going to change our lives forever," she told him, sitting up and brushing herself off {_there'd be more kissing and celebrations later. Now, it was time to talk_}. She exhaled excitedly, gearing up for her confession.

"I wanted to tell you first, because the other two, well, they're going to be so excited, Carlos. But you need a moment too, I think, to rejoice privately," she shrugged at him, and planted a kiss on his cheek, "I know you don't like to be caught by surprise." He loved her for it.

The anticipation built between them, and Mal's left hand drifted to her lower abdomen, the ring on her finger {_made of antimatter captured in magick, unique and worth more than the world combined_} glowing in the midday sun {_and he knew, he thought, the split second before she told him, the one thing that would, really, truly and irrevocably change all their lives forever_}.

"Carlos, I'm _pregnant_."

* * *

_This was the sixth work in the Seven Deadly Sins 'verse. The previous work is called 'What They Didn't Do' and the next work is called 'No Retreat(No Surrender)'. You can also find the entire story on my profile under 'The Horsemen's Cycle'._


	81. Gluttony

_If you're new to the Seven Deadly Sins series, this is the seventh story. You can find the order of reading on my profile, or if you'd prefer, the entire series in one story titled 'The Horsemen's Cycle'._

* * *

**Gluttony: No Retreat (No Surrender)**

* * *

_All good things come to an end (but really, great things never do)._

Once upon a time, there were four heroes. They were born in the slums of a cage, and they weren't expected to amount to much. But they worked hard, and persevered, and became stronger than anyone knew, and they became Kings and Queens. Their names were Carlos, Evie, Jay, and Mal.

Carlos was the youngest of the heroes. He was pale and sickly and wasn't expected to make it past his second birthday, not between the abuse his mother doled out and the time he spent on the sickbed. But one day, a girl told him a story that sent strength flowing through his veins and power through his muscles. He was the first to understand who what he was. He still hid in the shadows, still acted the weak coward, but he knew, in his heart of hearts, that he was sent to remake the world, and so when he met {_and fucked_} the princess that wielded poisons and knives with equal skill, he smiled and offered to tell her a story about a goddess that had come to Earth.

Jay was the strongest of the heroes. Born of darker skin colour, he'd never been treated the same on the Isle of the Lost. He'd always had to be better- faster, better, stronger, more cunning, more manipulative. His father had used him as a way to stock his store and keep them afloat from the age of five. He'd always been strong, been a wall of iron and offence. He'd been the first of them to understand how _alone _they were in the world, and the last of them to hear the story of what they _were_\- to each other, to the world. _Goddamn messiahs_, he'd called them, laughing, even as his cuffs clicked together, even as he knew he was enslaved for his entire future {_many years later, he'd give his lamp to Carlos, who cared for it the same way he cared for his portrait_}.

Evie was the most beautiful. A princess, a succubus, borne of the Evil Queen's desire and the semen of a dead man. She had porcelain skin and a rosary around her neck, and vibrant blue hair. She drank arsenic like it was wine and painted her lips red with blood. She had a crown, made of silver and rubies, and she had a tower, like every princess. She was trained, though, like other princesses weren't, in the art of _seduction_ and _fucking_, trained by her best friends and her _Queen _{_she was the one who told Mal the story of reincarnation, even though it had taken her years to believe it herself, too firmly set in the ways of the church. She whispered it to the daughter of Maleficent in the dead of night, naked under the sheets, and Mal grinned so wide it was nearly grotesque and breathed, "__**Obviously**__."_}.

And Mal… well, Mal was just the _most_. She was pretty and smart and _built _from _sex_. She had first been thrown into the brothel by her mother when she was fourteen and they needed cash to pay for Maleficent's alcoholic... habits. She was full of life and magick, and the fae blood that flowed through her veins built her son into the most powerful faerie the world had ever seen. She had pure white skin, and when her wings grew in, they were purple and black {_she never had horns, the truest sign of the fae. She didn't need horns, she just wanted her birthright_}.

The pattern was always going to end. They were gods, not _God_. They weren't immortal, even if their incarnations were. Mal was born as fae, and immortal race, and yet it was _guaranteed_ that she would die before the cycle could end. And when Mal died, so did her lovers. One by one. It wasn't of _heartbreak_, no. Each of them walked into the next life, into the cycle of reincarnation, in their own way, each so personal.

* * *

_The Sappho _docked in Chess for the first time nearly three hundred years after it left, to attend the greatest funeral the world had ever seen. None of the original crew remained on the ship {_Helena and Lonnie had gone out in a blaze of glory, swords swinging, and had ensured that their all-female crew would survive. Shenandoah_ _had died at the ripe old age of eighty_}, but that didn't leave the new girls less honour-bound to attend the funeral of the Kings and Queens that had once granted their captain their boat.

Their shrouds were all pure black, and the bodies that were left were burnt {_Queen Evie's body was unreachable, and King Carlos's body was destroyed, but their crowns were burnt in their places_}. Felicia Facilier held a baby {_the hair of the Iron Court, a boy who looked like both his mothers and both his fathers, who never got to love him the way they wanted to_} and kept her arm around Queen Hero.

After the ceremony, when the girls were about to board their ship and sail off for another hundred years, they were approached by the Queen. She was a quiet sort. She wished them well and reminded them that any of their crew would always be considered citizens of Chess. She left immediately afterwards, their captain staring after her in confusion.

The crew of _The Sappho _was an ever-changing being, and eventually it, too, died, when the ship hit rocks and sunk to the bottom of the ocean, landing next to the ruins of Atlantis.

* * *

When Mal announced her pregnancy to Evie and Jay, barely an hour after she'd announced it to Carlos, she was four months pregnant. Her lovers, though, treated her like she was the most fragile thing in the world {_she loved it_}.

And when they sat on their thrones and their people stared at Mal's belly, swollen and beautiful and exposed, and she laughed with joy.

After Mal bled out, Evie followed her into hell to bring her back. She was Orpheus and Mal was Eurydice

* * *

_On and_ _on Orpheus walked, surrounded by the dead, and then he saw a palace loom out of the shadows. As he approached it, the dead fell back. He found that he was walking alone. He was approaching the dwelling place of their king. He made his way between black gates; he climbed steps of black stone; a doorway of black ebony swung open before him. He entered the hall. At the far end of it, there were two thrones. On one sat the king of terrors, Hades himself, his eyes as deep as open graves, his black beard spread across his belly. Beside Hades sat his wife, beautiful Persephone. She was like a moon shining in a dark sky, like a mistletoe berry in the depths of winter. Orpheus, still playing his lyre, walked up to the two thrones. He stood before the god and goddess. He looked into their faces and then he began to sing._

'_We mortals are wretched things and the gods who know no care have woven sorrow into the pattern of our lives. Even the sparrow on the branch, even the wren in the willow knows more of sorrow than the thundering gods, who have never felt the cold hand of death closing around their hearts. But you, you mighty gods, you have known the sweet pains of love. You have felt Aphrodite's shining shafts. Great Hades, imagine those summer months, when Persephone is gone, lasting forever. Imagine, if you can, her pale face crumbling into dust. That is how it is for mortal man. Great Hades, I beg you, give me back my Eurydice.' _

_There was a silence. Then Persephone turned to Hades, her face streaming with silver tears, and Hades turned to his wife. One oily black tear trickled down his cheek and splashed onto his beard. He drew breath and spoke: 'Fetch me the three Fates.' The three ancient sisters were brought before him, the first who spins out the thread of a life, the second who measures its length and the third who cuts it. Hades looked into the wrinkled, leathery face of the third sister. 'Find the cut thread of Eurydice's life and mend it.' The third sister bowed before the god. Hades turned to Orpheus. 'Now go! Leave my palace! Leave my realm, and she will follow you. But do not look behind you. Do not look over your shoulder until the light of the sun shines full on your face.' Orpheus bowed. He turned on his heel and left the palace. He made his way across the shadowy kingdom until he came to the river's edge. Charon, the ferryman, was waiting for him; he climbed into the boat. As he sat down he felt it tremble, as if someone had climbed in behind him. He kept his eyes fixed on the far shore. When they reached the riverbank, he stepped out of the boat and behind him he could hear footsteps, soft footsteps following him. As he journeyed, he could sometimes hear the snap of a twig. Sometimes he thought he could feel Eurydice's breath on the back of his neck. And still he looked ahead. _

_He made his way through the tunnel of stone. And then at last he was out of the cave and breathing the fresh air of the living world. Above him the sky was bright with shining stars. Soon, he thought to himself, soon the dawn will break and the light of the sun will shine on my face. But as Eurydice was following Orpheus, she caught her foot on a stone, she tripped and she fell. Orpheus heard her stumble and without thinking he turned to catch her in his arms. He tried to break her fall and for a single moment he saw her face, pale beneath the silver stars. And then his arms closed around empty air and she was gone. In the land of many guests, the third Fate cut the thread of Eurydice's life for the second time. And this time there would be no mending it._

Patterns inside patterns around patterns. Circles never end, and so everything happens at least once.

* * *

This was the compromise. After Mal's death, and after Evie had followed her into hell to bring her back {_and never come back herself_}, Miranda had lost her wits to a fit of madness that lasted for the rest of her life. Miranda was immortal, her mother had ensured that. But with great power comes great madness. Miranda had never been able to handle the millions of years of knowledge inside her. It was the four that were keeping her truly grounded. She'd shared her knowledge, and she didn't have to carry it all. After Mal died and Evie followed her, all their knowledge came rushing back to Miranda, and she went completely _mad_.

Carlos had tried, for the longest time, to bring her back to them. He'd bartered with Felicia and he'd made deals with devils, but Miranda was finally {_truly, eventually_} lost to the world {_she'd known it would come. This was her part to play in the pattern_}.

It was with a truly heavy heart that Carlos had led her down to the lowest dungeon of the **Blood Palace** with a box of matches and a knife {_and Carlos spilt the sacred blood of the lamb, and the husk of Miranda's body hit the floor, and he'd burnt her body_}.

Carlos had been left, staring at his portrait, lost, with a box of matches in his hand.

* * *

The **Blood Palace** housed the happiest lovers in the world, it was said. The happiest lovers in the world _and their unborn child_. Mal was in her second trimester, and her Kings and Queen didn't hesitate to shower her with anything she could ever want. _An heir_ said the whispers around the castle _that was so long awaited that the Kings and Queens were considering moving Princess Hero down the line of succession {__**this, of course, was utter nonsense**__}._

Mal sat on her throne, in all her pregnant glory, motherhood making her stronger, defending and boosting and ruling her land well, in tandem with the Trickster and the Thief and the Whore. She was told the stories of her people, and she'd been told for hundreds of years, and made the best decision possible {_or left it to Jay or Carlos or Evie, all of which were just as brilliant as her_}.

"_My beautiful wife,"_ the High King whispered. "_My beautiful __**wives**__,"_ he corrected when the Angelic Queen shot him a glance, "_what did I ever do to deserve you?"_

"_You killed and stole and overpowered and hid and lied and gave us a country,"_ Carlos told him, pressing kisses to his neck and jaw.

The Avenger relaxed into his throne and his lover's touch, smiling at the glittering wings on the back of his fae wife. _You have no idea_.

* * *

_So you were never a saint_

_And I've loved in shades of wrong_

_We learn to live with the pain_

_Mosaic broken hearts_

_But this love is brave and wild_

Astoria Tremaine was never meant to last forever. She was human, fragile and breakable, and she'd suffered more trauma than most even thought of through their entire life. She had a boyfriend {_husband, lover, cousin_} that she loved more than she could bear, and a mother that hadn't much cared to remember her father.

Dimitri Tremaine was never meant to last forever. He was human, and he may have been one of the physically strongest on the Isle of the Lost, but his heart was weak, full of love and adoration for his wife {_cousin, lover_} and his best friend {_long dead, but who he could have loved for the rest of his life_}. He was strong, forced himself that way to protect his mother and his lover and his aunt, but he would have died for any of them, and that made him weak.

_This is a state of grace_

_This is a worthwhile fight_

_Love is a ruthless game_

_Unless you play it good and right_

Dimitri and Astoria Tremaine lived well, keeping their mothers to serve them {_loved them enough not to kill them, but not enough to set them free_} and running the country of their worst enemy like it was a business, and often visiting the **Blood Palace **{_in secret, so as not to attract unwanted attention_} to jeer at the son of Cinderella, shackled and serving at the feet of the Kings and Queens.

They lived well, but it grew too much for Astoria.

Astoria and Dimitri had loved Mikhail Medusa more than they could bear, and his death brought them closer together and fractured their heart in the same patterns. And it grew too much for kind-hearted Astoria {_or rather, the Astoria that would have been kind-hearted, had she not been raised on the Isle of the Lost_}. More and more days she found herself wandering to King's Cliff and looking down, wondering what it would feel like to fly {_she would never jump, she loved her husband far too much to leave him_}.

The wind at King's Cliff was strong, though.

_These are the hands of fate_

_You're my Achilles heel_

_This is the golden age of something good_

_And right and real_

When Dimitri Tremaine realised where his wife was going, he never followed her. He loved her, and she loved him, but sometimes they both needed space to mourn for their other lover, the one that never could have loved them back {_Dimitri's mourning spot was deep in the moors. His grandmother's stint with the Faerie Godmother's magick wand had infused the Tremaine line with just enough magick to cross through the wall of thorns_}.

He came out to King's Cliff once {_on the day of the anniversary of Mikhail death_}. He had no belief that Astoria would jump, but he needed to see her {_he couldn't lose all of them, he would __**die**_}.

{_He was wrong, thinking she wouldn't jump.}_

When he called her name and she turned to face him, he could see that. A serene smile crossed her face, and a look of sorrow sparked in her eyes. But when she looked backwards, over the edge of the cliff, Dimitri could see she'd made her decision, and nothing would ever sway her.

She let herself fall backwards over the edge.

There was a moment when they were both suspended in time, she in the air and he at the edge of the cliff, watching her fall, watching he dress fall around her.

{_you're tied together with a smile but you're coming undone/romeo save me i've been feeling so alone/did some things you can't speak of but at night you'll live it all again/forgetting him was like trying to know somebody you've never met but loving him was red/say you'll remember me standing in a nice dress staring at the sunset, babe/delicate_}

Mal was in her seventh month of pregnancy, and the baby seemed to be a boy. Evie was overjoyed, and Jay and Carlos couldn't keep the smiles off their faces whenever they saw their wife. Mal spent hours upon hours in the Casting Room, trying to expose their son to as much magick as possible {_she would not bear a baby that was half-fae, would not wish her suffering on her child like Maleficent did_}.

She read to her unborn son and sang to him, told him stories of dragons and beasts and fake weddings and faraway lands.

* * *

Felicia Facilier used voodoo to keep herself alive well into her three-hundredth year. A choice most people disliked (after all, most people disliked Felicia) but didn't comment on. She served the High Queen dutifully, keeping the favour she was owed secret. She didn't use the three wishes she'd been granted by the Djinn either. Felicia was the _queen_ of waiting for the right time, and she intended to use her favours only when the time was right.

No one knew what Mal owed Felicia.

And they wouldn't, not until the High Queen gave birth, not until Felicia mourned {_for her friend, and for the favour she was owed. Felicia was, when it came down to it, a practical woman above all else_}.

Felicia lived until she was five hundred and thirty-four years old, lived to be the advisor of Hero Árnadalr, _Queen of Chess and Arendelle, Heir to the Southern Isles and the Empress over Wonderland_ and her daughter, Maleficent the Third_, of the line Árnadalr, Queen of Chess and Arendelle, Heir to the Southern Isles and the Empress over Wonderland_.

Felicia turned to dust when she died, her soul taking its place amongst the other _friends on the other side_, and she was happy.

* * *

Truly, it went like this.

Mal's body had built itself back up to carrying a child, but not to childbirth. She spent four days in labour, screaming, clutching her spouses' hands, begging Felicia for some sort of relief {_Felicia spent one of her three wishes on her Queen's relief_}.

Mal's boy was born as she died {_not Ben's, as he wished before he died, but __**a child that would one day grow up to be a hero beyond the calibre of his mother(s) and father(s)**_}.

Felicia spent her next two wishes trying to bring Mal back {_The favour dies with me_}.

Evie held her baby and wept when he looked up at her with Mal's eyes and her own hair, with Jay's skin and Carlos's face, and whispered his name to the others.

Evie walked into Hell to bring Mal back, and never walked out.

Carlos killed himself in sorrow.

Jay went mad.

* * *

Truly, it went like this.

Hero was a good queen.

Her daughter married Emrys {_of the line le Fay_}.

They were a good King and Queen.

* * *

Kristoff had been missing for over three hundred years before he attempted a coup {_it was a historic failure. Even though the Queens and the Deceitful King were dead, the Avenging King wasn't, and he was __**the God of War**__. He'd taken down the five hundred trolls that had attempted to unseat him and __**his **__line_}. He'd been living as a rock troll {_with his son, who was also the son of Princess Anna_ _Árnadalr, who was also a __**threat to the crown**_}. The trolls had harboured a vendetta against Queen Elsa, and the Kings and Queens of Chess, and so they'd betrayed their monarchs {_King Jay had killed most of the trolls, but it was Queen Hero who led the worldwide hunt that sent them to extinction, with her husband Arrick Árnadalr, King Consort and cousin of Queen Hero_}.

They named their first daughter Maleficent, their second Valen, and their sons Halvor and Arkyn.

And Maleficent the third was betrothed to Emrys le Fay {_of the lines de Vil, and Jafar, and Grimhilde_} whose horns grew to be the length of his forearm and whose moss-coloured wings became the symbol of an empire {_who could grant wishes like the djinn and drew energy like an incubus_}.

Truly, it went like this.

A common girl that would become a soldier above all others {_a common girl who would have 309 kills to her name_} was born in Africa with the name Thana' {_AnubisHadesAzrealHelPluto__**Mal**_}.

Down the street from her, a three-year-old girl named Adamma {_AnaelVenusAphroditeFreyaHathorConquest__**Evie**_} was adopted {_they would grow up as the best friends the world had ever seen_}.

Nearby, a Mami Wata was given the name Gyana{_LokiHermesMercuryGabrielPestilenceSet__**Carlos**_} {_she would keep Thana' alive for many, many years. They were __**so**_ _in love_}.

Six years later, a boy name Dume {_MichealAresMarsHorusThor__**Jay**_} was born to a dying mother and was raised as a sibling of Adamma {_he was one day elected to rule his country, and he did so well_}.


	82. Watch the Queen Conquer (Part 1)

_If you're new to the Seven Deadly Sins series, this is the eighth story. You can find the order of reading on my profile, or if you'd prefer, the entire series in one story titled 'The Horsemen's Cycle'._

* * *

**Watch the Queen Conquer**

* * *

_Heal What Has Been Hurt_

He was tied to a bed, ecstasy running through his body, his wife bringing down the labrys his mother had hung above his bed when he turned sixteen and was deemed old enough to rule {_even though both his parents had been perfectly sound of mind and body_}. A Wiccan axe for a beautiful _witch _{_he'd heard the rumours drifting over from the Isle of the Lost, about a thief and a whore and a troublemaker and a witch; that had been how he chose who to bring_}. The axe was raised above his neck and he was about to die for this beautiful woman {_his wife that he adored_} when she slowed down, laying the axe near his head, on the pillow. Slowly {_so slowly_} she reached over to unlock the handcuffs keeping Ben tied to the bedpost, bracing herself for a fight {_kill him like a man, not a helpless animal_}.

Her husband, loving, beautiful, true, innocent, just lay on their marriage bed, gazing up in awe at the beautiful woman that was all his by law. The Queen of Auradon smiled.

"_You love me, don't you Ben?" _The King of Auradon nodded frantically at his new Queen. She smiled, her smile betraying everything that was to come, "_And you would do anything for me?"_

The King didn't even have to think about it, just agreed {_who would deny this perfect specimen __**anything **__?_}

* * *

The High Queen of Auradon pulled down the magick barrier that separated the Isle of the Lost from Auradon on the live broadcast the next morning, _King Ben the Just _standing faithfully at her side, her three lovers stationed careful around the room, daggers pressed to the pulse point of anyone who seemed likely to try to fight back. She called upon every pantheon that had ever existed, casting a spell so strong that it would ensure that magick would never be used against its own for centuries.

_Vita, Mortem, Amare, Bellum, Odite_

In most iterations, Life didn't join them. It was War, Death, Conquest, Pestilence. But Life and Death were powerful together, so very powerful, and Mal craved power like it was strawberries.

_Alea Iacta Est_

And so the Iron Court grew into more, lived in the Shining Palace {_Ben's blood was never spilt, and so Chad Charming never spat the words __**Blood Palace **__at High Queen Mal's feet_} as eternal lovers {_Hero was still born, would be born in every cycle_}.

_Superare In Re Bona_

Miranda was the only one to remember the other world, the what could have been, because Ben grew into the Beast that his father never was, truly feral and with, made of claws and sharp teeth {sometimes, when he ran his tongue across his teeth, he tasted blood}, a hybrid the likes of which the world had never seen, and so why would anyone consider the other possibility {_the one where Mal brought the axe down, the one where __**evil **__reigned instead of __**Death**_}.

_Flectere Si Nequeo Superos, Acheronta Movebo_

* * *

Mal and Evie and Jay and Carlos and Ben grew old together over hundreds of millennia, ruled Auradon as a monarchy that the world would never be able to forget. They would go down in the history books, the blood of a human and a fae and a succubus and a djinn and a beast succeeding them, and layering the bloodline with the blood of a sorceress {_the line of le Fay would grow to a greater infamy than Morgana or Lilith could ever have expected, their namesake taking their heritage to even greater heights_}.


	83. Watch the Queen Conquer (Part 2)

_Change the Fate's Design_

"_Just my darling sister to deal with now," _Mal sat on her lavish throne, a crown made of iron thorns and golden palm fronds on her head. Ben sat next to her, on a broken blue and gold throne {_the remnants of Auradon_}. Next to him was Queen Evie the Conqueror {_Knight of the Lost_}, her throne made of glass and leather. On the other side of Mal was King Carlos the Beautiful on a silver throne, and then King Jay the Wild next to him on a throne of gold and the sands of Agrabah. Although King Carlos wasn't actually on his throne, right now. He was on Mal's lap, kissing along her neck and jaw.

Ben smiled at the couple. At first, he hadn't understood _how_ Evie, Jay, and Carlos could _possibly_ share Mal, but now he understood {_understood over a plate of love-potion spiked cookies_}. He understood the love between all of them and was _so_ grateful to be included in the fold. And it was that inclusion that lead him to _now_. To the ideas flooding through his brain about _destroying_ Audrey {_that whore that had tried to take him from Mal, that had had the childhood his Queen had never had_}.

{_In another timeline Mal snapped her fingers and Phillip fell down dead, looked at Briar Rose and told her to tell Audrey the truth. _

_In another timeline all the stories of heroes would be soon forgotten, replaced by stories of a family who claimed that they ruled the Fae and the Moors, who screamed and cried as they burned from the inside out, whose blood still stained the halls of the Blood Palace._}

In this timeline, Mal strung Audrey up by her wrists in the dungeon, let her hang, kept her hungry but not starving {_because it wouldn't do for her prisoner to die before the Court was done with her_}. In this timeline, Mal kept Audrey to torture her because the truest torture was that Ben was by _her_ side through it all, not Audrey's.

In this timeline, Evie burnt a crown into Audrey's head {_The evil queen has no royal status here and neither do you_}. In this timeline. Jay pressed his lips to Audrey's, hard enough to bruise, before running a million volts of electricity through her body, leaving her limp and weak. In this timeline, Carlos left his dogs to bite at her feet {_rottweilers, gifted to him by the Queen on the anniversary of their takeover_}.

{_**Blood shall not kill blood**__, the fae laws demanded. In a different timeline, Mal hadn't cared, had slain her mother, father, sister and husband in one fell swoop. In this timeline, she kept Audrey alive, screaming. She kept Phillip (__**dear old dad**__) chained down in a cell, thousands of meters below the palace, a collar around his neck and shackles around his wrists. In this timeline, she kept Briar Rose the same way Evie kept Doug, and relished in the thrill of her tormentors being under __**her**_ _power, __**forever**__._

_In this timeline, she kept her blood alive, and the Magick of the Moors ran through her veins, and she grew wings of her own accord (__**Jahin would always hate Felicia**__). She was honoured as a hero amongst the fae, wings of cobwebs and dragon fire that she lined with iron adorning her back_.}

In this timeline Audrey's life was tied to Ben's {_because Ben would never die in the new regime, his Kings and Queens would never allow it} _and she became immortal _{a life tied to __**Life**__, to HeryshafGaiaArielFreyrTerra__**Ben**_}.

* * *

The Kings and Queens of Auradon made Maleficent's execution public, in this timeline. They tied her to a rack and left her, in public, to _suffer_. She stayed there, in the centre of the city, for seven days before her daughter came to finally punish her. The Daughter of Maleficent, with wings cast in iron and horns that pierced through her scalp, with hair blacker than _Snow White's _stood above her mother. She lifted the labrys that usually hung above the bed she and her lovers used so thoroughly.

{_This time, she brought the axe down. Maleficent's head rolled, but Mal had already claimed her true inheritance as the Queen of the Moors, of the Seelie and Unseelie Courts. And she would be honoured for aeons, centuries of Verse about the Fae inspired by High Queen Mal the Vicious, Queen of Auradon and Arendelle._}


End file.
